A Lack of Color
by four51
Summary: RT: When Tristan and Rory meet up later in life, they soon become good friends. When Rory is arising feelings that are more than platonic, what happens when Tristan is just simply not available? FutureFic. COMPLETE.
1. The New Year

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51 **

**Chapter 1. The New Year**

"I'm writing! Didn't I ever tell you to not bug me while I'm in the middle of a great paragraph? Now I'm going to have to start all over. God, Rory. Thanks." He wasn't joking.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I was just wondering where the apartment keys are," I said as quietly as possible.

"They're in the effing jar. Where they always are." He didn't look up from his laptop.

"I already looked there."

"Well, then, I don't know where they are. I put them there, and now they're gone. Maybe Casper took them."

"I'm sorry."

I turned to leave.

"Don't come back for," he paused, and I could hear the jingle of his watch, "six hours. No sooner."

"Okay. I have work until five anyway."

"Give me your life story," he said, sarcastically.

And I left my room. Just like that.

I work at a local magazine. Not anything big, but it's still something. I'm still making something of myself. That's what Oliver says. He's doing the same thing with his writing. Only he writes books.

I work from nine to five. Every weekday. Pays the bills.

When I was walking through the lobby, the manager came up to me.

"We found a person to rent the room. Moving in this week," she said, ecstatic. They've been trying to get someone to live there for about a year now, when the past people left for a good deal on a house.

"That's wonderful!" I laughed. "Let's hope they stay."

"Yeah. Well, there's a complaint on 3B." She rolled her eyes. "So, I've got to run. I'll catch up with you later, though."

"Bye, Cynthia."

My apartment building isn't that bad. It's got a bar around the corner, and a grocery store a block down. It's in a nice enough neighborhood, even though Oliver doesn't think so. It's a little on the price-y side, so I've not had enough of supplies and furniture to fill it yet.

Every time I have enough money, I pick out one thing to put in it, though. So, it'll get there.

I hail a taxi to go five blocks to 57th street. Usually, it's the same guy, since I get out of my house around the same time everyday. His name is Javier.

"What's up?" he asked me today.

"Oliver's writing again," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I know what you mean," he comforted.

It's not as though Oliver is mean or anything. He just gets in this mood when he's writing. I don't mind it much now. I've learned to deal with it. After all, I like silence when I work too.

"How's work going? I just read your column last night. Great stuff." He was talking about my recent article that came out two days ago.

"Thanks. I worked hard to find a sufficient edge on that one."

"I'd say you found the right one."

I smiled. "Thanks a lot. Here's $14.50. And a $10. Have lunch on me. See you tomorrow, hopefully," I said as I got out of the cab, hearing his shout his thanks my way.

Work is pretty boring to talk about. I find something to write about and start on it. I research, get facts, and find an 'edge'. Then I write. Nothing more to it.

After work, I usually go to the bar I was talking about. Joe knows me there. He frequently gives me a beer on the house. We play cards. It was poker tonight.

"I'll bet you five toothpicks and a peanut."

I sighed, and threw my cards down. "I fold."

"Two pair," he showed me his hand.

"Damn you," I said as I swallowed the last of my complimentary Corona Light. "Thanks for the fun, but I've got to go."

"One more round," he pleaded.

"Sorry, Joey. Tomorrow, I promise." I gave him my flashy smile.

He laughed. "Alright. Tomorrow. Be careful out there," he said, nodding to the street.

"I will." I grabbed my purse. "Bye."

I walk home. I'm apartment 2A. There're two more rooms. One is occupied by my best friend in the world, Jen.

I knocked on her door and then went into my room. I threw the keys into the jar by in the kitchen and start to fill up my coffee pot with water.

"How was work?" Jen called, coming into the kitchen.

"Fine. You?"

"Great. I think I'm getting promoted!"

"That's awesome."

"Yeah. What movie tonight?" she asked, holding up "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" and "Moulin Rouge".

"Rouge, definitely. We just watched Harry Potter."

"I just can't get over how awfully handsome Ron and his brothers are. How's Oliver?"

"He's fine. I called him at lunch and he yelled at me for once again ruining his momentum." I rolled my eyes.

Jen gave me a look. "Why are you even with him?"

The question of the year. I always answer the same. "_Great_ sex."

We laughed.

"You're horrible," she told me.

"I know. He also has his moments. When he's not writing."

"When is that?!" We laughed again.

"From seven to eight a.m. and when we're on a date."

"You told me that he keeps a notebook with him to write thoughts in, though."

"So?" I asked.

"That's not taking a break, Ror. You know there are other guys that are amazing in bed, too. You should get out more."

"Ugh. First dates. Always awkward."

"Better than getting yelled at for killing a mojo."

"I've gotten used to it. He's not that bad, actually."

"Whatever. I'm sick of talking about Oliver. Ask me what I did last night."

"What did you do last night?" Rory asked while pouring herself a cup of now-made coffee.

"Met a guy. Ask me where."

"Where did you meet him?"

"At the _Met's game_," Jen said with her eyebrows raised, obviously awaiting a chuckle from Rory.

She succeeded. "That was really lame, Jen. I'm not going to lie."

"Eh, I try."

"So what are your plans for this weekend?"

"I was thinking we could go clubbing."

Rory rolled her eyes. "I don't think so."

"Come on! You have only gone with me once, and that was millions of months ago!"

"That was two months ago, and I even told you then that I would never go again."

"This time will be different. No country music at Club 365. I promise."

"And no old cowboys trying to slip something in my drink?"

She held three fingers up. "Scout's honor."

"You didn't take Girl Scouts."

"I was a Brownie…?"

"Yeah, and made out with the supervisor's son during a campout!"

"He was in junior high! What was I supposed to do? You know I have a thing for older men."

"_Everyone_ knows you have a thing for older men."

They laughed.

"Come on, let's go into the living room. Get yourself a cup of coffee while I go put the movie in."

"Only if you come with me on tomorrow night."

"It's New Year's tomorrow," Rory remembered.

"Yeah, so?"

"It's going to be packed! Oliver won't want to go anyway, and then who would I kiss?"

"Oh, shut up. You're going. Whether Oliver wants to or not."

Rory sighed, giving in. "Fine, but I want to have a good time. If I'm not, I'm out of there."

"Yes!" Jen said, while putting her arms in the air. "I win!"

"Oh, shut up and get in here."

Rory popped in the DVD and waited for it to load.

"Are we going with the Met guy?"

"Well, we will if our first date goes well. He's taking me out Wednesday. His name is Cliff, by the way."

"As in 'Walk of a…'"

"Yes. Don't mock. He's gorgeous."

"Like you would settle for anything less."

"You know it, babe. Talking about the New Year, what's _your_ resolution?"

"Oh, you honestly don't do those, do you?"

"You should start meeting new people. Especially new _guys_. Then you'd see who's out there, besides stupid Oliver."

"Oh, shut up. He's alright. And I'm not going to make that pact."

"Why not?! It's perfect. It gives you a reason to branch out. My resolution is stop biting my nails."

"See? Why can't you pick a resolution like _that_ for me? It's easy and in my comfort zone."

They sat on the couch.

"I don't think I believe in New Year's Resolutions. It seems kind of… I don't know. Everybody that sets one usually picks something that's easy to fix. Why can't you start any other day of the year?"

Jen sighed. "Let's not get into _this_ again! Remember with the whole 'Why can't you be great to your girlfriend any other day than Valentine's Day' and 'Why can't you give thanks outside of Thanksgiving'? You're on a streak here, Gilmore."

_The next day_…

I walked down the hall to the elevator. I pressed the L button for the lobby.

When the doors opened again, all I saw was luggage. I heard a man grunt, trying to pick it all up.

"Oh! Let me help you!" I offered, picking a duffel bag up.

"Thanks," I heard. He had blonde hair.

We went into the elevator together, all his luggage in toe.

"Rory?" He asked.

I looked up, my eyes narrowing, trying to make out this person in front of me.

"You seriously don't remember me?" he scoffed.

"It's on the tip of my tongue…" I tried to figure it out.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, hot body. Where had I seen him before?

Of course! It's –

"Tristan Dugrey," he finished my thought. "Chilton High School."

"Of course!" I repeated aloud. "Where to?" I asked, my finger hovering over the buttons.

"Two, please."

"That's my floor."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Are you stalking me, Tristan Dugrey?"

He laughed. Wow. That was a nice laugh. "Yes. Indeed, I am. You don't have a boyfriend, do you?"

I smiled. "I do, in fact."

"Damn. I just need to work harder, then, to win you over."

We chuckled and the elevator dropped us on the second level.

"You're going to like it here. I promise. It's a nice place. You have me and my best friend, Jen, on this level, and the manager lives three floors up, so she doesn't really get mad at you for jumping around in the middle of the night or anything." God, help me, I'm babbling.

He laughed anyway. God. That laugh.

"Anyway, it was nice to see you again, Tristan. I need to get to work."

"Hey, I'm having some people over tonight, for the holiday. A little house warming thing. You should come over."

I smiled. "I just might stop by. I made some plans with Jen, but maybe after."

"Okay. Thanks for the help. I'll catch you later." He said, putting his key into the door.

"You sure will."

The rest of the day was a bore. I couldn't wait to get out of that office. My boss let us off early, which I was completely grateful for.

I pulled out my cell phone while I tried to hail a cab.

"_Hello_?"

"Hey. Jen wants me to go out to a party with her tonight. Would you like to come?"

"_Rory…_"

"I know, I know. You don't have to. I just thought it'd be nice."

"_I don't think so. You know how I hate New Year's parties. People think this is some insane, important day. Maybe next year._"

"Yeah. What are you going to do tonight?"

"_I think I might watch some movies. Ted wants to hang out. I could have him over._"

"That sounds nice."

"_It will be. Look, I'm mid-sentence, and I've to finish my five-day quota. How about you call me tomorrow?_"

"That sounds good. You don't mind me going, do you, Oli?"

"_No. Gives me a boy's night in._"

"Good. Okay. I've to run, but I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"_Bye._"

I hung up. Great. I'm going to be alone on New Year's night. Maybe Jen was right. Maybe I should broaden my horizons tonight. A great first kiss on New Year's night doesn't sound half bad.

What am I saying? Oliver's great. He knows how easy it is to get caught up in work and understands all my silly quirks. He likes my mother. He's almost perfect.

Almost.

And that's all I need right now. _Almost_ perfect.

Jen came to my apartment around eight.

"Ready to have the most insane night of your life?" she asked me.

"As I'll ever be."

I was wearing a dark pair of jeans with a grey silk halter top. My hair was down and I wasn't wearing much makeup.

Jen, on the other hand, was fully made over in extravagant make up and mini-everything. Her skirt and top barely covered her.

"Do you think you'll catch an STD by simply _wearing_ that?" I joked.

"Oh, shut up. I'm getting laid tonight."

I nodded, putting simple diamond earrings on.

"Speaking of getting laid, is Oliver coming tonight?"

"No, he and Ted are going to watch the game."

"Code for having hookers over."

"Not even! He's not like that."

"Oh my god. Again, talking about getting laid, did you _see_ the new guy?! He's to _die_ for!"

"I went to high school with him," I said, rolling my eyes.

"He's _that_ Tristan? You've never mentioned how _hot _he is!"

"He's definitely grown up." I grabbed my purse and headed to the door. "He invited us over for a party tonight, by the way."

"What?!" she practically screamed. "Are you serious?! And why aren't we going?"

"Because I already told him we had other plans."

"If McHottie asks us over for a rendezvous, we just _don't _say no. It's in the handbook."

"Really? I guess I should read it over again, because I thought it said to not bail on your friend's night."

We walked to the elevator and soon got to the club she was talking about.

I could hardly hear anything; the bass was up so loud.

It looked like she mouthed 'Going to the front.'

I yelled back, "Okay," and motioned to the ladies room. She nodded.

When I got out, she was no where to be found. I went to the bar and ordered a cocktail.

I waited for Jen to find me.

A while later, a man sat next to me.

"Having fun?" he screamed at me.

"To be honest, absolutely not."

"I could help with that," he said, getting closer.

I scooted the other way. "No thank you. I'm meeting someone."

He got closer. "Girl friend?"

I looked at him and blinked.

"I knew it." He was practically falling off his chair and onto mine.

"Look, she said no, man."

I looked behind me.

Tristan.

The freaky guy got lost and Tristan took his chair.

"Not stalking me, eh?"

"I never denied it," he joked.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were having a party tonight."

"The night is still young. It's only nine. I'm also picking up someone."

"I see."

"What are _you_ doing here? You look great."

"Thanks, it's not really my style though. It's Jen's fault. Trying to convert me to her party-girl ways."

"Still a Mary, yeah?"

"In some senses."

A young, pretty girl stepped next to him. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

She kissed him long and hard.

I blinked multiple times.

After many seconds, they broke apart. "I'm sorry, Rory. This is my girlfriend, Michelle."

"Fiancée," she corrected, somewhat hostilely.

"Rory Gilmore." I extended my hand and she prissily took it.

"She's a friend from high school," he told her.

"Oh," she replied and ordered two shots. One for him and one for her.

I know my cue.

"It was nice seeing you again, Tristan. I've to find Jen. I'll catch you later."

He gave a face of… God, what was that? I guess, of apology.

He's engaged.

I found Jen some time later, in the middle of the crowd dancing.

She wanted me to join, so I did for a couple of songs. I looked at my watch. 10:30.

"Look," I yelled over the music, "I'm going to go. This isn't for me. You have fun!"

She gave me a disappointed look.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise."

She nodded and hugged me.

Thank god, I was out of there. I was about to get a headache.

When I finally hailed a cab, I got to my apartment building around eleven.

I walked through the lobby and went up the elevator.

Tristan's room was loud. His door was open, and I hoped he wouldn't see me.

"Rory!"

No luck.

I turned around. "Hey."

He came out of his room. I could see a lot of people were there.

"A small group of people?"

He laughed. "It's Michelle's doing. She's a model, so she invited all of her friends from the industry."

"You didn't mention you were engaged."

He blinked. "I didn't? I didn't mean to exclude it…"

"Yeah… So, a model, huh?" An effing model.

"Yeah. You should come in."

I shook my head. "I've had my share of clubbing for the night, thank you."

"Come on! It'll be fun. I promise." He put on his best puppy-dog face.

How could I say no to that?

"Only for a little bit."

That little bit ended up being longer than I wanted.

Tristan and I ended up talking for most of the time in his kitchen.

Apparently, he is working on a very up-and-coming website and has been with Michelle for two years.

"She's always gone, though," he had said. "On business."

"Right. That's what she _wants_ you to think," I joked.

He laughed. I smiled then.

I told him that I have been dating Oliver for about a half a year now, and am working for a news magazine. He made a joke about how I never gave up on my dream.

We heard then counting down.

"10… 9… 8…"

"Oh, crap, I have to go," he told me and ran out of the room.

"7… 6… 5…"

I stood there dumbfounded at the sudden end of the conversation.

"4…"

I tried to get out of there fast, before anyone could start making fun of me for being alone.

"3… 2… 1!"

Not fast enough I guess.

Because there he was. Tristan with his Michelle.

Making out. Having the best time of their lives.

And I was alone. With no resolution.

I entered my apartment and threw my keys into the jar.

I stripped and got into bed.

Happy New Year.

A/N: Yay! This was such a long chapter. I don't know if I'm glad about the outcome, but it kind of was the introductory chapter – to find out what her life was like. That's what the first part of the chapter was about. The second was the juicy part. Also, this isn't going to be the kind of fic where Tristan is just going to fall at her feet. I hope you liked the chapter! Please review.


	2. Lightness

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 2. Lightness**

_The next week - Thursday_

"We're getting ready to watch Grey's Anatomy! Get in here!" I yelled at him.

Jen was sitting on the floor and I was on the couch. I left room for Tristan next to me. Yeah, yeah, I know. I have a boyfriend. We're just friends – honestly.

Not that he's not handsome.

Not that I haven't flirted in the last week since he first moved in.

Since then, I haven't seen his _Michelle_ anywhere. He says she's out 'on business'. He's always used those words: 'on business.' I wonder what that means. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.

Tristan's been to my apartment almost every night. Jen's not complaining. Then again, she's never complained when a "gorgeous" man joins us.

"I come bearing gifts," he told us, sitting next to me, bags in hand.

"Gimme, gimme!" Jen extended her hand and contracted her fingers eagerly.

He brought out a plethora of junk food including, but not limited to: Red Vines, Reeses, Snickers, M&Ms, Goldfish, and a couple of packets of popcorn.

"Extra butter," he told me.

"Yummy!" Jen screeched.

"Pizza's in the oven," I offered.

"It's nine o'clock, and you're just having dinner?" he asked.

"Hey, I have a life."

"A very unfulfilled one, I might add," he hinted and leaned in closer to me, his forehead resting against mine.

"And I suppose you are going to enlighten me…?"

"Oh, but what friend wouldn't?"

"One that doesn't want to make others throw up," Jen said, and Tristan sat back.

I internally groaned. He smelled delicious.

Maybe it was just the pizza.

"It's on, it's on!" Jen jumped slightly, excited.

We watched the first couple of minutes and a commercial came on. A loud beep came from the kitchen.

"I'll get the food," Tristan offered.

"Oh, no, I can get it," I assured him.

"No, it's my pleasure." He exited the room.

"No, it's fine. I'll get it."

"If you insist."

"I do."

I walked out and basically hyperventilated in the kitchen. No, I'm exaggerating. I just took very deep breaths is all.

Nothing different.

The phone rang.

I was going to pick it up but I heard Jen answer from the front room.

"Ror, it's for you!"

Duh, it's my house.

"Thanks," I shouted. I picked up the corded phone in the kitchen. "Hello?"

"_Hey._" Oh dear, Oliver.

"Hey."

"_I was just thinking we could go out tomorrow night._"

"Um, why?" A very girlfriend thing to say. Not.

"_We hadn't seen each other for a while, and I miss you._" That was true. I haven't called him. Not that I didn't mean to. It's not like I feel guilty for hanging out with Tristan or anything. I mean, he didn't call me either.

"I don't know. I promised Jen last Saturday that I'd hang out with her."

"_Didn't she just pick up the phone_?" Damn it.

"Well, yes, but she wants to go out."

"_Rory. You're always with her. Why can't you spare a night for me?_" Ugh. The question.

"You're right." I gave in. So what? I should want to hang out with my boyfriend, right? "What time?"

"_Six-thirty._"

"Nice. I'll be ready. See you then?"

"_See you then._"

I hung up and got dinner ready.

I carried a huge cardboard plate filled with an extra-large pizza with everything on it.

"You bring napkins?" Jen asked.

"Of course," I said, passing them out.

"Perfect," Tristan said, getting some pizza onto his paper-towel napkin.

I sat back down next to him and we watched the rest of Grey's. I watched him sometimes. Not enough for him to notice me.

He was just so god damn good-looking.

I know I shouldn't be saying this. Seriously. He has an effing model fiancée. I could never compare.

I have to stop.

I have to.

At the end of the episode, Tristan explained that he had a big meeting and he better get to sleep. We, reluctantly, said goodbye.

"So, he asked who was on the phone."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What'd you say?" I hope not too much.

"Just some stuff about Oliver."

I sighed. "Jen…"

"Oliver has not very much potential. Why go out with him?"

"Oli is…" I paused, and said the thing I've ran over and over in my head. "Oliver is _almost perfect_, Jen."

She looked at me. "That's not good enough."

"I like having someone," I said, quietly.

"Excuse me! A young man, hot, funny, and great personality, is practically throwing himself at you!"

"He is _not_. Tristan and I are just friends. I don't have any attraction whatsoever. He has a girlfriend. _Fiancée,_" I corrected.

"But…"

"Almost perfect is what I need right now. I don't need someone perfect like Tristan coming in and ruining everything."

Her mouth gaped open.

"Not that Tristan is _perfect_." I said, quickly. "I'm just going by what you're saying."

"Right. Just friends. No attraction. Right?"

I hesitated. Damn it.

"I knew it! You like him!"

"No…"

"I read you better than that."

"It doesn't even matter. He has a gorgeous fiancée, and would never even give me a second glance to her. I know it."

"So, you're sticking with Oliver."

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "I'm sticking with Oliver," I whispered.

She gave me a hug. "Get some sleep."

I couldn't, that night. All I could think about were Tristan's hands, against my body. His lips against my…

I shouldn't even think what I'm feeling.

I have a boyfriend. A good boyfriend.

An almost perfect boyfriend.

I don't need Tristan.

He's just a friend.

Just a friend.

I probably got a good three hours of sleep until my alarm clock rung at seven. I groaned audibly and jumped in the shower.

I stayed in there for a half an hour. When I got out, I picked out my outfit for work and grabbed my briefcase. When I got my keys, I was out of there.

Tristan was just leaving his apartment too.

"Hey, you're leaving early," I said.

"I wasn't sure you were observing my schedule…" He raised an eyebrow.

Crap.

"Oh, well, I mean. Whenever I leave, you're never out. I always hear you walking around. Getting ready. The usual stuff people do in the morning. Thin walls…"

He laughed. "I was joking. No pressure."

He put his arm around me and my eyes grew wide. We walked to the elevator.

"I was thinking," he started, "do you want to go out on the town tonight?"

My heart nearly came out of my chest. And then it practically hit to floor when I remembered.

"I have a date tonight."

"Right…" he nodded his head. "Lé boyfriend," he said with a tiny accent.

"I'm sorry."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

I smiled. "Of course."

"Great. I'll invite Jen."

My heart was squashed by the sole of his shoe, as we walked across the lobby.

"Jen… Right." I looked down.

"Unless you had some more people you had in mind," he offered.

"No, no. Jen's the only one."

"Okay, great."

"Well, this is my ride," I pointed at Javier. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he said as he walked down the street, whistling for a taxi.

"He was a cutie!" Javier beamed at me.

"Tristan's taken, babe."

"By you?"

"By a _model_," I practically spat out.

"God damn."

You see, Javier's gay. And completely, at that. He's the most 'out' person I know. And this is New York City. That'll give you a picture.

"I have to go – " I paused and corrected myself, "I _get_ to go out tonight with Oliver."

"Now, he's not bad-looking either."

"Yeah, but…"

"I know, I know. He's not _Tristan_, yeah?"

I scoffed, "Totally not what I meant."

"Yeah, yeah."

We got to my stop.

"Thanks for the ride. $14.50. By Javi," I said as I climbed out of the backseat.

When I was off work at quarter to six (because I had some extra work to tend to), I was not in the mood to go out. But I had to, nonetheless.

I took a quick shower and put on a nice-r dress. I touched up my makeup and put darker eyeliner on.

"You look wonderful," he told me as he gave me a kiss.

"Thank you. You, too." He had on my favorite slacks and a nice button up shirt.

We went to his car and got in.

"Q2, tonight."

"Oh…" I knew he could hear my disappointment.

"What?" he groaned.

"Well, you know I don't really like Thai…"

"What the hell do you suggest then?!" he yelled at me. I looked down. "You must have something in mind, right?"

"Q2's fine."

"I mean, don't mind what I love. It's all about you," he said sarcastically.

"I said it's fine, Oliver. It's fine."

"Whatever. What do you want, then?"

I pursed my lips. "I was thinking San Luigi Italian."

"You won't eat Thai but you'll eat that crap?"

"You know what?!" I yelled. "Forget it. Take me home."

He quieted down, and sighed. "San Luigi's fine." He paused. "I'm sorry."

I nodded, still shaken up. "Me, too." Although I didn't really have anything to be sorry about. It's just the thing you say, I guess.

"Are you sure you don't want Thai? I mean – "

"God, Oli, fine, fine…! Thai. Let's have Thai. God."

He was quiet the rest of the ride.

"Here we are," he said excitedly.

Q2. God, I hated this place. It smelled horrible and the food was horrible and it made my stomach feel horrible…

"This is excellent," he said during dinner. "Are you enjoying it, Ror?"

I looked up and tried to smile. He smiled back. I gritted my teeth and pushed my food around on my plate.

"Would you like dessert, hon?"

I shook my head.

"OH!" he exclaimed. Oliver got out his small pocket book and started scribbling something down. "I've been waiting for inspiration all week. You don't mind if I go home now and have a few hours on the laptop before bed, do you Rory?"

I shook my head again, reluctantly. "I guess not," I sighed, trying to make it obviously clear that I felt the opposite.

"Great. Let's go, shall we?"

He paid and we were off. It was only eight-thirty.

He was cutting our date short and I wasn't even getting sex.

I looked out the window when he talked to me during the ride home.

"Right?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Have you been listening?" he looked down to me.

"Well, I, uhm – "

"Right, well, then he asked…"

He didn't even care!

My blood was boiling.

"You know what, Oliver? Why don't you let me off here. I can take a cab home."

"Rory, what's wrong?"

What could I say? I couldn't tell him the truth, could I? So I lied. "Nothing. I just thought that you should have a little more time writing is all. And I'm so much out of your way home…"

He thought about it for a moment and then pulled over. "Great idea, Ror. Thanks."

I got out of his Jeep. "I'll call you."

"Bye."

And he left.

I was so mad, I couldn't even begin to talk about it.

So I walked it off. My apartment building was only a few blocks away, and I needed to get it out of my system.

I saw him at a bar. Alone.

My bar.

So, I went in.

"Joe!" I shook hands with him.

"Hey, Rory. Beer?"

"Yes. And keep them coming." I sat nonchalantly next to Tristan.

"Bad day?" Joe asked me.

"Bad _date_," I corrected.

"Ah."

"What are you doing here?" Tristan asked me.

"I was out, and I saw you. Thought I'd drop in."

"You want to do a couple of shots?"

"Have _you_ had a bad day?" I asked him.

"A bad year, really." He seemed already a little drunk.

"The year has just started, hon. How can it be that bad already?"

"You have no idea."

We took a couple of shots after that. The alcohol was ripping through me. I hate tequila. I hate it so much. But Tristan asked me to.

So I did.

Is that so wrong?

It's what friends do, right?

Right.

…

Right.

So we had a couple of shots.

What's the big deal?

It's not like we were going to go back and have a hot, passionate night.

It was a couple of drinks shared between two friends.

Nothing more.

"You know she doesn't even love me, I don't think," he slurred out.

"Who?"

"_She_."

"Oh…" I said. I wasn't as drunk as he was. I'm not completely unaffected by liquor, but I'd say I can hold most of what I take back. I could tell that wasn't the case for Tristan.

"She probably has guys lining," he motioned, "out the door for her, and she chooses me. _Me_. She must be fooling around."

I was quiet.

"I should do it too. If she has fun, why can't I?"

"Well, you really shouldn't just sit around waiting for her."

"Nah. I couldn't go out without her. I'd probably end of doing something stupid. But I just want you to know that I'm not an idiot. I know she's probably out screwing someone right now."

"So why are you with her?" This was a much too personal question.

And I wasn't even sure I wanted the answer.

"Because she's everything. She's perfect."

Right. I didn't want to hear that answer.

But then he did something. Something I'd never forget.

He looked at me with his big, blue eyes, pushed a piece of hair out of my face, and leaned in.

He got within millimeters of my lips.

God, it all felt so… right. So… _perfect_.

But he pulled away.

I've never been so pained in my entire life.

I guess it was just the tequila.

His button-up shirt was unbuttoned a little. His chest was so handsome. Just the right amount of hair. Clean. Smooth. Perfect.

"You're becoming one of my really good friends, Rory Gilmore."

He leaned in again. I saw the intensity in his eyes. He wanted me, and I wanted him.

Right here, right now.

I shouldn't have even thought about it.

I had a boyfriend. I liked my boyfriend. My boyfriend was not out cheating on _me_. I should do the same.

But Tristan…

He is so intoxicating.

More like intoxicat_ed_.

Because right when I thought he was going to kiss me. He turned over and threw up all over my new shoes.

It was just the tequila.

I took him back to the apartment building, receiving a few glances.

When we got up to his room, he gave me the keys. I went in, him practically on my back.

"Where's your bathroom?"

I received a muffled grunt from Tristan.

I tapped his face. "Tristan, wake up. Please? I need to know where your bathroom is."

He slightly pointed in a right direction and I pulled him with me.

Right when we got into the toilet room, he leaned over and threw up again. Only this time it was in the right spot.

After he settled down and collapsed on the floor, I couldn't help but to check him out.

He was… well, he was great-looking. To say the least.

I took his state in. I could have done anything. The one thing I really wanted to do was to reach underneath his shirt and feel his abdomen. I bet it was nice.

I shouldn't have even been thinking it. I sat on the edge of the bath and wondered what kind of hold he had on me already.

I was getting a crush on Tristan Dugrey.

Nah. I just found him physically attractive.

No! God. I can't even say this. I shouldn't even say this.

I'm not even thinking it.

It was just the tequila.

Definitely.

A/N: So, maybe it's moving too fast. Tell me in your reviews. I only got five. And that was really sad. In my opinion. I mean, I wrote TEN PAGES for you guys, and I should at least get ten reviews. Oh well. I guess I know you like it because a lot of people added it to their story alerts. Which was great. Yay! Well, please review. I wrote ten pages again, so I'm expecting at least ten of you who read it to say at least _something _about it. It said that it was over 250 that read it. How lame that only five people thought it was worth reviewing. I'm sorry, this is laying it on thick. I'm kind of disappointed. But oh well. Hope you liked it. Next chapter should be up in the next couple of days. Review, please, for my sake.


	3. Title and Registration

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 3. Title and Registration**

It was Sunday night.

"I'm serious."

Jen rolled her eyes.

"I am!" he said again.

"So what you're saying is – " I started.

"That I don't think she's ready to commit to me."

"And what made you think that?" I asked, intrigued. This is what I need. I need her out of the picture. We went out yesterday without anything wrong. And she wasn't there. And that's all I needed.

Okay, that was a little evil to wish.

I take it back.

But I would love for them to break up. It would make things just so much easier.

"Well, she hasn't planned _anything _for the wedding. Not the colors, not the bridesmaids, not the date, not anything. Who does that?"

I looked down and stayed quiet. If I let anything slip out of my mind, it'd be wrong to say.

"Maybe she's just not ready. You know, with her traveling _on business_ and all," Jen said, purposefully using his very words.

He ate a handful of popcorn. "I'm just saying. It seems a little odd. You don't think she's having second thoughts, do you guys?" He streached his arm around me on the couch.

I sighed, audibly, sick of hearing about _Michelle_.

"You do!"

He obviously took my sigh as one of negation.

"I'll be right back. Bathroom," Jen said as she exited the room.

"I just think she might have trouble coping right now. It's a big change – to go from girlfriend to wife."

"But we've been engaged for almost a year. Wouldn't you be excited?"

To be married to you? Hell, yes.

I looked deeply into his eyes. "I'd be ecstatic if I were in her shoes."

He looked at me weirdly and fidgeted slightly. His hand was on my shoulder. I could hardly breathe.

"But I'm different. She's probably different than me."

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "You're better." He took my hand, playfully.

I knew he was joking. I just knew it.

But it all felt so right. I scooted more into him. I laid my head on his shoulder and he put his head on mine.

It was all perfect.

He fidgeted with my hand, examining it.

Then Jen came in and Tristan sat up, uncomfortably. He also took his arm out from behind me.

Thanks, Jen.

She gave me a look. A 'Well, well, well, look what we have here,' look.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"I'm going to get more pancakes," he said and got up. We were having breakfast for dinner tonight.

"Just friends?" she whispered to me.

"A friendly gesture."

"_Too_ friendly, I would say."

"Oh, shut up."

"Denial…"

"I am not!"

"Who's in denial, and what from?" Tristan asked, once again, sitting next to me. He had a full plate of breakfast.

"Nothing," Jen said, rolling her eyes.

I picked up my fork and got a couple of Tristan's pancake slices on it.

"Hey!" he protested.

"My pancakes."

"My batter."

"My forks," I countered.

"My orange juice."

"My TV."

"My movie," he argued.

"My apartment."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Pass some of it over," I teased.

"Okay. You win," he paused, "this time."

"I'll make it up to you later."

"Oh yeah?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah," I smiled.

"What would that entail?"

"Please, for my sake, don't answer that," Jen said, holding her hands over her ears.

"Fine, fine," Tristan said. "Are we all going out to dinner tomorrow night?"

"I have to work Tuesday," I complained.

"I'll have you in bed by ten o'clock, I promise."

I smiled and shrugged. Jen nodded her head and assured both of us that she was free.

He went back to watch the rest of Anchorman with much mocking.

I watched him.

I couldn't help it.

So, sue me.

Any other girl would be in the same position.

Right?

Right.

So what if he's got a girlfriend?

_Fiancée. _Whatever she is.

So what if I have a boyfriend?

I gagged at the term.

Some boyfriend, leaving me on the eerie streets of New York City alone after forcing me to eat Thai.

Whatever. Not going to mention it.

I'm over it.

I'm over him being a control freak.

I'm over it. I'll let him do anything he wants from now on. I mean, I might as well give him _that_, seeing how I'm having daydreams about someone that's _not_ him.

It's only fair, right?

Right.

The next day, Monday morning, at work, I had a striking revelation.

I actually like it here.

The office is nice.

People don't ask questions.

People don't talk about their personal lives.

People don't complain constantly about their bitch fiancée not being able to handle commitment.

They keep to their business. They get things done.

They don't ask how I am. For it was practically written on my face. I was miserable.

I had a crush that didn't even give me the time of day.

Well, romantically, that is.

So that makes it innocent, right?

Right.

I didn't need to break up with Oliver, or feel guilty in any way.

Because it was an innocent crush.

And it's not like I was out kissing him.

Unfortunately.

But no, at work, I didn't have to think about all this. I could think about celebrities and their perfect lives.

I didn't have to think about _him_. He didn't exist here.

I didn't have to think about his hands playing with mine. His body, all sculpted and strong…

All I had to do was figure out something interesting and write about it. Nothing more to it.

I only have to look at stupid clipping of –

Michelle?!

She's right here. Right in front of me. In a stupid tabloid.

Even when I get away from all of that, it's still shoved right in my face.

She's still flaunting that she has what I don't.

She has what I would die for.

And I'm all alone.

After work, I stopped by the bar again.

"Hey Joe," I said, exhausted.

"Hey. Game of cards?"

I sighed. "Not today, Joey. I'd take a therapist, though…?"

"Shoot."

"I like a man."

"Okay…?"

"He's engaged."

"You still have time…"

"To a _model_!" I moaned, landing my head on the table.

"She must not be prettier than you."

"Thanks, Joe, but she's gorgeous. She's perfect. I simply can't hold up to her."

"Don't get discouraged. He'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Me and my cards are always here."

I sighed, smiling. I took the beer and paid him. "I've got to go home – going out to dinner tonight."

"It's Monday," he gasped, playfully.

"I know." I shrugged. "Thanks for the talk."

"Hang in there."

I smiled again and walked out the door.

When I rounded the corner, I ran right into someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I started to pick up the contents off the ground and hand them into her purse.

"Well, maybe you should look next time."

Michelle.

Great.

"I said I was sorry."

"Right, well, I've got plans. Would you mind?" She motioned for me to get out of her way.

Like there wasn't enough room on the sidewalk to walk around me.

I breathed deeply, trying to contain my annoyance.

"Right."

I walked up to the apartment and knocked on Tristan's door.

"Back already?" I heard him call, but when he opened the door, his smile faded. "You're not Michelle."

"Well, you're very observant. I was just going to tell you I only need a half an hour to get ready for tonight."

"Oh…"

"What?"

"Well, I…"

"I mean, all I need is a shower to get this horrible smog-sweat off me. Yuck."

"Rory…"

"Sometimes I hate New York. Stupid corporations just putting their contaminated steam into the air that will one day ruin the o-zone layer and result in the entire population living underground."

"I meant to call…"

"I mean, it's not like we haven't done it before, though. In World War II, the British had to sleep underground while the Germans bombed them at night. It's definitely possible."

"Right, well, Rory – "

"I got the whipped cream, your favorite. Just imagine this all over me tonight."

I turned around to see Michelle holding up two bottles of spray whipped cream.

Big night.

"Right, well, uhm," Tristan stumbled, obviously embarrassed. "Could you get those into the room, babe?"

She looked at me. "Oh, _you_." She might have well slapped me and pulled my hair.

"Michelle…?" Tristan said, impatiently.

"Right, well, I'm going to go change into something… smaller," she told me, more than him, narrowing her eyes.

I breathed hard as she passed me, nudging my shoulder slightly.

"I'm sorry about her. She gets… jealous."

"Right."

"So…"

"So, a half an hour?"

He paused and blinked a couple of times. "Rory, I…"

And then it dawned on me.

He was picking her over me.

Well, not really, but it might have well been.

"You're staying in with her, then."

He sighed. "She just showed up unexpectedly, and what was I supposed to do?"

"Not leave her, I suppose."

"Rory…"

"No, I'm fine, really." Lie.

Another realization.

It would _always_ be her over me.

The tears came to my eyes.

I lowered my head.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I've just got something in my eye." Lie.

"Here," he held my head up and pried my eye open with his fingers. He looked around and told me to move my eye around. I did so, not wanting to blow my cover.

"Is it better?" he asked.

His hands were cupping my face.

"All better," I whispered.

"Right, well, I better get in." He let go. "You sure you're all right with this?"

I breathed in deeply. "Perfectly."

He must have sensed it. "Rory, any other day…"

"I know, I know. I have more work to do anyway." Lie.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go and entertain your girlfriend. I'll be fine without you tonight." Lie.

He laughed.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

But he didn't.

Neither tomorrow or the day after did I see him.

Or the next day.

I was just waiting.

Waiting for him to come around.

Waiting for myself to get over it.

Which got better once Oliver called Thursday night.

"_Hey Ror._"

"Hey Oli. What's up?"

"_You have time for a quick bite tonight_?"

I sighed. I really didn't, but I felt guilty.

Not that I should have.

Because it was an innocent crush.

Right?

Right.

"I'm free."

"_Great. I'll be over there in ten minutes_?"

I looked in the mirror. "Um… make it twenty?"

"_Sure. See you then._"

"See you then."

I knew I needed to get out and forget about Tristan.

About what he could possibly be doing that could sound like a woman getting murdered.

I bet sex with Tristan was wonderful. I bet it was perfect. Just like him.

I fixed myself up: clothes, make up, hair.

When I got into his Jeep, he confessed, "I'm not really hungry."

"You aren't?"

"No," he gave me a big smile.

Sex.

I rolled my eyes.

"We haven't for two weeks, Rory."

"I've not been up for it. I'm exhausted. Work is hard right now."

"Yeah," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I bet," he said cynically.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" I yelled.

"You _know_ what it's supposed to mean."

I looked at him.

"Every time I call you, I hear _him_ in the background."

"Don't _even_!" I scoffed.

"Suddenly, when he comes into your life, you have no use for me. I wonder why…?" His eyebrows were furrowed.

"He's just a _friend_, Oliver. Nothing more. And I just don't feel up to it because of what I told you, I'm tired."

I tried to sound convincing.

He looked back on the road, concentrating more on it.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Where to?"

"I feel like a cheeseburger."

"Burger Joint?"

That's on the same street as my work. "I go there all the time…"

"Well, where else do you suppose we go?" he asked, obviously slightly annoyed.

I thought for a second. "Schnack?"

He nodded, silently.

When I got home that night, I reviewed my voicemail. I was in the middle of the second message, when I heard a knock on my door. I opened it.

"Finally got some time? She seems to have you all tied up. Or is it the other way around? I'm not sure how that's pleasurable anyway." I said to him, turning and heading back toward the kitchen.

He followed. "I'm sorry about the noise. I tried to keep her down."

He looked smug. He had no idea how 'the noise' has affected me.

"It's fine. Next time, get a sound-proof room."

"Got it." He sat at my kitchen table. "You don't have much in here," he observed.

"I don't have much money."

"I could lend you some…?"

I looked at him. "I don't want charity," I spat.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing just as Oliver's had.

"I just want you to get a grip on your _fiancée_, and next time, keep her a little quieter!"

He didn't say anything, so I elaborated.

"I just can't sleep when she's screaming out your name in the middle of the night. Some of us have real work in the morning."

"Hey!" he shouted, sticking up for her. "She works hard for her money."

"Oh yeah, I can see that," I said, sarcastically.

"This is bull. You have no right to say anything about my personal relationships. It's not my fault you're with a complete asshole that can't treat you right. I _like _to treat Michelle right."

"And I suppose she does the same? You can't even reach her three-fourths of the time. You said yourself that you can't trust her!"

"I didn't mean it that way and you know it," he yelled.

"Just get a damn hotel room next time," I concluded.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

And he walked out.

My legs were weak.

I sat in the chair he was, put my head in my hands, and cried.

A/N: So, emotional. I would love to put swear words in here, but I also want to keep this fic PG-13. So, yeah. Hope you don't mind. So, she's ganging up on Tristan's fiancée when she really wants to be her. Intriguing huh? All of you who reviewed last time, thank you so much! Really boosted my confidence and my motivations – hence and new chapter so early. Review again, and I'll have another one up like that snap!

Thanks again. Review!


	4. Death of an Interior Decorator

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 4. Death of an Interior Decorator**

"What?!" she practically screamed in the bookstore.

"Shh!" I warned her. "We had a fight."

"So that's why you're sulking."

"I am _not _sulking."

"Oh, you're sulking."

"Whatever."

"What was it about?" Her eyes were excited.

"Why do I get the strange feeling you're enjoying this?" I asked her, my eyebrow raised.

"You know I always enjoy drama."

"It wasn't dramatic."

"What was said? Come _on_, Rory. I'm dying to know here."

I sighed and picked up a semi-attractive book. "You heard her, Jen. Don't pretend you didn't."

"You yelled at him for Michelle?"

"Yes, I yelled at him for _Michelle_. I was mad."

"Madly in _love_," she said, holding her hand over her heart.

"Oh, shut up, will you?"

"Aw, your first fight," she said dreamingly.

"You know, he said an awful lot of horrible things to me too, Jen."

She cocked her head, and gave me a look. "Like what? What could have possibly been _so_ horrible?"

I looked down. "Like how Oliver treats me badly and how I just let him," I said quietly.

She blinked. "Uhm, hate to break it to you, but Oliver _does_ treat you horribly and you _do_ let him."

"Jen…"

"See? You didn't kick me out of your apartment for saying that. Why'd you do that for him?"

"Okay, one, you're by best friend and you have a license to tell me things I don't want to hear."

"That's right. Two?"

"Two, we're in a public place."

She shot me another look.

I sighed. "You're right, that was a lame 'two'."

"Three?"

"Three," I continued, "I didn't kick him out. He yelled at me and stomped out."

"She left, you know." We walked out of the bookstore and to a small coffee shack. We sat down with our beverages.

"Who?"

"Michelle."

"Oh?" I tried to sound disinterested.

"Oh," she pushed me a little, "get that smug look off your face."

We laughed.

"What'd you tell him about her?"

"I merely said that I needed some sleep next time and that he should resort to a room that doesn't let any sound out. I also suggested a hotel."

"You _didn't_!"

"What's so wrong with that?"

"Rory, it's his life. He's got a right to…" she paused, looking upward, thinking, "… _fulfill_ his fiancée."

"I don't even want to talk about it anymore."

"Are you going to talk to him soon?"

"I don't know."

"You _have_ to apologize."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. It's my duty as a best friend to tell you the truth. You said it yourself. You were out of line."

I was silent for a second. "I don't know what came over me, Jen. It all just started coming out and I didn't know how to stop it."

She looked comfortingly at me. "You _like_ him, Rory. It's all that sexual frustration."

I narrowed my eyes. "I am _not_ frustrated."

She raised her eyebrow.

"I can't even screw Oliver anymore, Jen. That's how bad this is."

Jen suppressed a giggle.

"Don't laugh!" Rory pleaded. "I'm being serious. I don't know what to _do_."

"I don't know either. Have you had a sex dream about him yet?"

I scoffed. "No!"

She looked at me. "Are you _sure_?"

I rolled my eyes. "So maybe once, I had a _little, itty-bitty_ sex dream. It's not like it matters. It was very short, and it didn't even finish."

"Did you…" she paused, "you know…?"

I gasped even louder as my cheeks burned. "No! I wasn't even aware you could do that because of a dream."

"When was this?! You never told me!"

I sighed. "It was only three nights ago, the night after the fight. I wanted you to hear what happened before. I _was _going to tell you."

"Uh-huh," she said, teasingly.

"So, what do you think it means?"

"Well, you had your first fight, and your first sex dream."

I nodded.

"Hm, well, it kind of seems like it's tied together, to me. You either apologize, or you keep having hot, steamy, _passionate_ sex with Tristan."

I rolled my eyes. "In my dreams."

We laughed.

"I'm not going to apologize to him."

"Whatever you say. Personally, I wouldn't either, given the choices."

She giggled and soon I joined her.

_Later that night_…

I awoke suddenly, sitting up. My eyes were huge and my breathing was unusually rapid.

He was there, in my dreams, again.

Only this time, he didn't stop.

I think I…

No…

My legs were shaking, and my heart was beating fast.

My center throbbed.

These are all signs that I…

I can't believe I… did _that_ to a dream.

Well, I guess I can. It was a pretty hot dream.

He was so naked, and so warm and so…

Oh, damn it.

I swung myself off the bed and quickly got into my robe and slippers.

I silently told my legs to stop wobbling as I put them to work.

I walked across the hall and knocked on the door loudly and without stopping.

This was sure to wake _anyone_ up.

It was about a full minute before I heard sounds come from inside.

He opened the door, rubbing his eyes from the brightness.

"Rory?" he asked, assumedly still half-asleep.

"I am so sorry, Tristan." I pushed past him and invited myself in. "I don't know what came over me."

He closed his door and looked at me, trying to make sense of my actions.

"So, you just woke up and decided to come by my room? It couldn't have waited until sun-up?"

"Well, I just wanted to tell you. I've made a mess of things, Tristan. I really didn't mean it." My voice got lower to a mumble, "but I mean, it would be nice if you did keep her a little down on week nights."

He was still looking at me incredulously. "But that's not the point. I was upset at something else, and you were just there, and I didn't know what to do."

He seemed to be awake now, and he sat next to me on the couch. "What were you upset at?"

I paused.

Should I tell him?

Nah.

Wait. Maybe he feels the same?

I doubt it. He's effing a model, for Christ's sake.

"Come on, Rory. I'm here for you. Anything, and I'll be right here." He put his arm around me and pulled me in close.

Flashes of my dream were going off in my head.

I needed to break contact.

_Fast_.

I turned to face him, shrugging his arm off in the process.

"Is it Oliver?"

I nodded. Really, Oliver had _something _to do with it, I reason.

"What'd he do this time?"

"He's just being Oli. He's controlling, demanding, and sets certain hours of when we can meet up. It's like, I can't be on a damn alarm clock every time he wants to hook up, right?"

"Right," he comforted.

I shrugged. "I don't think I'm even really happy anymore."

Why did I say that?

That sentence was just way too intimate.

I cursed at myself.

"Why are you even with him?"

"Question of the year," I quipped.

"He's obviously not what you need, right?"

Right. He should be you.

"I don't know anymore, Tristan."

"And if you're single, it makes room for other…" he paused, looking down, "better guys to take his place."

Oh my god. Is he really saying –

"Break up with him, Rory. He's all wrong for you."

I cocked my head. "How would you know?" This was not said harshly, but curiously.

He took my hand. My heart melted.

"Because I know _you_. You're one of the most pure-hearted, greatest people I know. I wish I would be so lucky to have a person like you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"It's attainable, you know."

I don't know what could have been a better hint.

He couldn't have possibly not gotten it, right?

Right.

Because right then, he leaned in closer to me.

His eyes latched onto mine, and I could feel his breathing hitch.

He got closer, and closer…

I could almost taste him.

I could almost feel him.

I closed my eyes when he was millimeters away, but nothing happened.

"Uhm…" I heard. My eyes flew open again. He stood up and nearly tripped over himself. "I have to get to sleep. Big day tomorrow."

I blinked once, twice, three times.

"Right," I stood.

"Okay, well, show yourself out?" he stepped backward.

"Right."

"Bye," he said and practically ran out of the room.

I walked out of his room and into mine.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked myself.

I think it's safe to say I had only about a wink of sleep for the rest of the night.

Once it was late enough that I predicted Oliver would be awake, I gave him a call.

"_Hello_?"

"Hey, it's me."

"_Great timing. I just got out of the shower. Just a towel on._"

I rolled my eyes. "Actually I needed to talk to you."

I heard him sigh and I went on.

"Oliver… you know as well as I do that things have not been going as good lately. It's just like we aren't alike anymore. We're different people, Oli. We can't… I can't…"

"_What are you trying to say here, Rory?_" His voice was solid, assuring me he already knew the answer.

"I need out. I can't be with you anymore." All I saw was Tristan's face in my head, and that's what made me not even regret this.

"_Are you sure about this, Rory._"

I took a deep breath. "Yes."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Oliver?"

"_Rory… you know what? Fine. Fine._"

And the line went out.

I looked down and tried to cry. Or be sad. Anything that would make me feel less guilty. But all I could do was smile.

_Later_

"_What?!_" Jen shouted and almost had a heart attack when I told her what happened.

I looked down.

"And then what?" she was basically jumping up and down in the small diner that we were in.

"And he left. Went back into his room."

"But _why_?"

"I don't know."

"What did you do after that?"

"This morning I broke up with Oliver."

She was quiet for a second, then said, "For Tristan?"

I almost jumped out of my chair with excitement, "Of course!"

"I don't know, Rory…"

"What do you _mean_ you don't know? You've been hassling me for months to get rid of him. Are you seriously not happy about it?"

"You know it's not that. I've very happy for you." She took my hand and smiled.

I smiled back.

"But why did he leave?" she asked, perplexed.

"I don't know. Maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe he just needed to do something. Maybe he had something planned already. He did hint… didn't he?"

"Rory…"

"I mean, it was obvious! He likes me too!" I smiled hugely.

"I don't know…"

"What do you _mean_ you don't know! 'I wish I could have you,'" I mimicked. "How else can you put it?"

"He did say he wished that he could have someone _like _you…"

"I can't believe you're saying this! After everything – _everything_ – that I've been through, you're honestly telling me that I'm wrong? Did you even hear what he said?"

"I think you shouldn't count your chickens before they hatch, Rory. It's not smart, and someone could get hurt."

"Just you wait. He'll come around. Soon. I'd bet my life on it."

During my next break, around three o'clock, I called Tristan.

"_Hello_?"

"Hey, you."

"_Rory… hi._"

"What's up?"

"_I have some news. Do you have dinner plans tonight? We need to celebrate._"

"No, none."

"_Well, you do now_._ Dress formal._"

"Great, what time?"

"_How's six?_"

"Perfect."

"_Great. Bye._"

"Bye."

I nearly fell out of my chair. He was going to tell me that he broke up with her.

Finally.

Finally we could be together.

I knew it.

I knew he couldn't _possibly_ chose that _Michelle_, after all he sees he could have.

Three hours.

That's all I had to wait to win the man I've dreamt of – literally and figuratively – over.

I could hardly breathe as I finished my work, got off, and went home to get ready.

Hair up or down?

Up. More elegant. Ooo, and some of those tendrils. All the men complimented that.

A perfect black dress with silver accessories.

A great smoky eye and nude-pink shade of lip-gloss.

I looked absolutely perfect.

I almost shrieked.

I was about to win Tristan DuGrey over.

I couldn't breathe. I was so excited.

My heart was out of my chest and I was giving it to him.

I walked out of my apartment at 5:55.

So, yeah, what if I was too excited.

I'd say I'd have a pretty good reason to.

At 5:57, Jen exited her apartment and I was just about to tell her about my big date.

When I noticed she was dressed up too.

"You're going out with Tristan too?"

She nodded, nonchalantly.

Like it was nothing.

Not like me.

"He didn't tell you?"

I shook my head. Oh well, maybe he'll have Jen bug off so he could talk alone with me.

"He's going to do it tonight. I swear to god."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't know, Rory. He said he had something to celebrate…"

I smiled, saying, "His break up with _Michelle,_ of course!"

She looked skeptically at me.

"Trust me," I said, "It's tonight."

She smiled, "I hope so." She squealed with me.

"What are you two doing?! Playing a bunch of birds?"

"Birds who are god damn hungry," Jen quipped.

"Well, then, ladies, shall we go?" he offered both his arms to us as we gladly took them.

Here's my heart, Tristan DuGrey.

"We shall," Jen and I said at the same time.

When we were in the car, I noticed.

"Tristan, this is quite far. Where are we going?"

"A surprise, my dear."

I smiled and sunk back into my seat, sulking in every moment of this night.

He parked and I got out of the car.

I gasped. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

"Like it, Ror?"

"Oh my _god_! I've wanted to go here for the longest time! They have a _huge _waiting list to get a reservation. How the hell did you manage?!"

"L'Impero has a soft spot for some cash."

"You shouldn't have. It must have not been this important."

He put his arm around my shoulders, under my chin, from behind. "It is. And I knew how much you like Italian."

"Tristan…" I twirled around, looking into his eyes.

He was perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

He started walking towards it. "I told you!" I whispered at Jen.

She shrugged her shoulders. "How was I supposed to know? Definitely tonight."

After we got seated and he ordered an appetizer.

"So," Jen started, "What _is_ this huge news? We're dying here!"

"Okay, here it is…" He paused for dramatic effect.

I was just waiting for it to cross his lips. I was ready to fling myself at him.

I broke up with _Michelle_.

_I _broke up with _Michelle_.

Come _on_, Tristan! _Say it!_"

"Michelle and I finally set a date!"

I got off my chair but stopped suddenly. Standing. I sat down again, trying to avoid the weird glances.

"_What?!_" I shrieked.

I felt Jen's eyes on me.

I breathed heavily.

"And this calls for a billion-dollar dinner?" she asked, trying to take Tristan's eyes off me.

"Well, you know how unsure I've been about her intentions. This is just perfect. I'm so happy. I'm sorry I worried you guys with my anxiety. Obviously, there was nothing to be afraid of!"

He stomped on my heart. It was in a million pieces.

I stood up once more. "I need to use the restroom."

I got in the stall and practically hyperventilated myself. Tears sprung to my eyes.

I was so sure.

He sent me all the signs!

_I_ was supposed to be his bride!

I heard Jen's voice calling for me softly. She was in the bathroom.

I exited the stall.

"Oh, Rory," she embraced me and it took all I had to not cry right there on the spot.

I don't know how long we stood like that.

When we walked out, I told Tristan, "There's a crisis at work. They need me to get over there right away."

"What?" he asked, disappointed. "This is L'Impero! Can't it wait?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm sorry Tristan. I ruined your night…"

"Nah. It's fine. Besides, Jen's here to keep me company."

I nodded and got my things. "I'm so," I could hardly get the words out, "happy for you, Tristan. Congratulations, really. You deserve the best."

"Here's the cab money. I'm sorry you couldn't stay."

I took the dollar bills. "Yeah," I breathed, "me too."

I cried the cab ride home. Then I cried while I was taking my clothes off, and some more when I was just laying in bed.

How could I have been so stupid?!

"Rory?" I heard Jen's voice a while later. She climbed in the bed with me.

"Rory, I'm so sorry…" she comforted and held me while I cried.

"I'm never going to be good enough, am I?" I asked, to no one in particular.

"Shh…" she cooed and smoothed my hair.

I've never been in so much pain my entire life.

A/N: So I switched the songs around. Just to make the meanings of the songs line up to the story's contents. Maybe this was moving too fast? I think it's like when you're just so let down, it's all you can do: cry. Hope you all liked it. SHE BROKE UP WITH OLIVER! Ha. Bet you didn't see that coming, did you? Yes, I agree, it was a little OOC to have her stay with him, but you never know if he'll be back… So, I got seven reviews out of the 150 people that read the last chapter. You were doing so good with the second chapter! Please pull through for me this time! I love you all. Review!


	5. Passenger Seat

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 5. Passenger Seat**

I picked at the left-over Chinese food. Putting it to my nose, I decided that it needed to be put in the trash.

I tossed the rest of the contents of my refrigerator.

I then picked up a cleaning product and sprayed it down. Taking a paper towel, I wiped it down, making sure it was thoroughly clean.

I heard the front door open and close.

"Rory, what the hell are you doing?"

I didn't take my head out of my refrigerator. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Smartass."

I sat back. "I'm cleaning my kitchen. After, I plan to clean my bedroom. Then I'd probably move on to the living room," I said quietly.

Morning sunshine seeped through the windows. She looked bright.

"Rory," she sat next to me on the floor, "you should be in bed."

"I'm fine."

"Rory…"

"Jen…"

"I'm worried." It was only a few days after the 'setting of the date' celebration.

"I'm fine," I said with a slightly warning tone.

"Rory, you're not. Look at you. You're – "

I stood up, hastily. "I told you I'm okay, Jen. What else do you want? You want me to pity myself? God. I'm fine."

"I want you to face this." She stood as well.

"I _am_."

"No, you're not. You're taking it out on your apartment. This isn't healthy."

"Jen! Would you please be quiet? This is the way I'm choosing to deal with it, okay? It doesn't help with you shoving it in my face!" I breathed deeply, calming down. "Yes," I shrugged, "I'm hurt. Immensely. But there's nothing I can do about it." I looked into her eyes. "Nothing. Please stop."

She nodded.

I went to working on the freezer.

After a moment, she asked, "You need help?" I knew she meant with both my heartbreak and my kitchen.

I looked at her, and then shook my head.

"I have it covered. It's my mess," I said, answering both of the double-meaning.

She nodded again. "I'll come by later."

"Okay."

I heard her see herself out.

I swallowed and sat down, looking at the task ahead of me.

Sticky, frozen something fixed onto the door.

Icicles hung from the shelves.

And with all of this, I asked myself if it was worth it – cleaning.

Then, I thought to myself:

Even with his girlfriend – excuse me, _fiancée_ – and his annoying nose-grunts, and snoring…

Even with his gross big-toe-nail (that was bruised because of a stubbing on my coffee table, and I could hardly look at now), his darker roots, his beard-stubble…

Even with his attached earlobes, his obsession with keeping clean, his hair between his eyebrows (not yet a uni-brow, though, because he never lets it get _that_ bad)…

Was it worth it?

I laid down on the kitchen floor, exhausted with just thinking.

Yes.

It was all worth it.

I closed my eyes.

I don't know how long I was down there. It could have been seconds, minutes, hours…

All I know is that I awoke to his presence. He was standing over me.

It was getting dark outside.

He cocked his head. "You want to go for a ride?"

I furrowed my eyebrows, thinking for a second. "Yeah," I whispered.

He took my hand, pulled me up, and walked me out.

I don't know why I said yes.

Maybe I'm under a spell, like one of Cupid.

It would make sense on how he wouldn't have such strong feelings back.

Cupid only strikes once and that person is the one usually getting hurt.

I took a deep breath before entering his car.

It smelled of him.

He looked at me curiously.

I mirrored it.

He started the car.

I buckled up.

He exited the parking spot and started on our journey.

Our journey to nowhere.

Our journey to everywhere.

All we needed was right with us.

All we hated, we left.

"Do you like Thai?" I asked.

He made a disgusted face.

I smiled.

"Why?"

"Just wondering," I said, looking down.

"How about you?"

"Are you kidding? It's the most horrible food in the world. I don't understand how anyone could live in that country."

He laughed.

"What's your favorite food, then?"

He looked at me. "Mexican," he answered.

"Oh."

"I'm also loving Italian at the moment, though."

He was smiling.

My face brightened. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You want some?"

"Which restaurant?"

"I was thinking Babbo, Po, or…" he paused, looking over at me, "L'Impero."

I looked incredulously at him. "You just ate there, Tristan. Just a few nights ago."

He shrugged. "You didn't."

I looked in my lap, almost bursting.

I sniffled by accident.

He automatically took my hand. "Hey, what's wrong?"

I looked out the window, not wanting him to see. "Nothing. It's nothing."

He put his hand to my cheek and lightly forced me to look at him. "What is it?"

I searched his eyes, wondering whether I should say anything. "You're so good to me."

He smiled.

I wiped my eyes and nose and shook back my hair. "Let's eat," I smiled back at him.

I walked into the restaurant and it was so pretty.

I noticed the perfect white linens and yellow lighting.

The romantic candlelight and the beautiful artwork.

He went out of his way (and his wallet) to bring me here.

Tristan pulled out my chair, waited for me to sit in it, and scooted it forward.

What a perfect gentleman.

We ordered wine and sat back.

What do I say?

He's just looking at me, and I can hardly contain myself.

So I decide.

"I broke up with Oliver. I don't know if I told you yet."

He nodded. "Jen mentioned something along those lines."

I looked away from his twinkling eyes.

"Why'd you do it?"

I searched him, wondering, not wanting to make it too obvious. "You made sense to me."

He nodded. "So you broke up with him because of me?"

He didn't know how true he was.

"Yeah," I whispered.

"I didn't know much about him. Other than he was a jerk."

I sighed. "He'd commandeer my apartment for the day, his house being too noisy because of neighbors or parties and stuff. He'd tell _me_ when to get back to my own room. That's one of the things I've always hated."

"That's… lame."

I laughed. "Yeah. It really was."

He smiled. That gorgeous smile.

We ordered.

"Why are you going out with _Michelle_?" I tried to not sound disgusted by her name. I can't say that it worked all too well. But he dismissed it.

"I don't know, really." He shrugged. My heart lunged. "I've been going out with her for a long time. I can't think of not being with her."

"There's never been anyone else that you've been attracted to?" Okay. Maybe I was crossing the line here.

He was quiet, as if debating whether to tell me. "Well, there is… was… _is_," he took a deep breath, "someone." He shrugged. "I feel really guilty, actually."

I learned my lesson on assuming a half a week ago.

I just nod. "Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. Then appearing to change his mind, he said "She's shaken up my world. Making me question everything. I stay awake at night just thinking about what I should do." He paused. "What should I do?"

I shrugged. "Which one do you like more?"

He sighed and looked down, thinking hard. "I love this other girl's personality. She's a _really_ good person and we just mesh well together."

I took a deep breath. "But…?"

"But I've known Michelle for so long. I don't think I could do that to her."

I nodded. "Keep doing what you're doing and see how it turns out. Just make it soon. It's not fun being strung along."

I really tried to not think it was me.

Like, _really_.

It was hard, but it worked, for the most part.

I just kept reminding myself that it _wasn't_ me.

When we finished eating (the most wonderful Italian I've ever eaten), we went back in the car and went on driving again.

I turned on the radio.

"Harbor" by Vienna Teng filled the background.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself to get caught in the music, leaning my head back.

"I took eight years of piano lessons," he informed me.

My eyes flew open, gaping at him. I smiled. "That's hot," I said, in my best Paris Hilton voice.

He smiled back. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "Definitely. My heart melts whenever I hear somebody playing nicely."

I could see him blush lightly. "I'll have to play for you sometime, then."

I mirrored his blush. "Yes, you will."

I'm falling…

For Tristan.

I let my eyes shut as Corinne Bailey Rae's "Like a Star" filled the speakers. Just the right mood. It was playing for me.

"So, why were you on the floor?" he asked, referring to earlier today.

I shrugged, keeping my eyes closed. "Bad day."

"Me too."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not in particular. You make me forget. I'll keep it like that."

I smiled slightly, to assure him that I appreciated his feelings toward me.

"You're my best friend," he whispered. I hardly heard him over the song.

I took his hand, looking at him. "You've been right behind Jen for a long time."

He smiled big at me.

He parked at a cliff and put down the top of the convertible car. He left the music on.

He started standing on his seat.

"What are you doing?" I asked, curiously.

"I'm going to go into the backseat. It's more comfortable. You can join me, if you'd like."

Like I'd ever give up the opportunity.

I sat next to him

We tried to get comfortable and ended with my head on his shoulder and both his arms around me. My hand was on his chest and we were both looking up.

"I'm Safer on an Airplane" came on the radio by Copeland.

"This is nice," I stated.

I felt him nod. "It is."

I forgot he had a fiancée for a moment.

Just a moment.

And kissed his chest.

And then I remembered.

Because his whole body tensed up, and he dropped the arm that was around my front.

I apologized softly.

He told me it was okay.

The Fray's "Trust Me" came on.

I looked up at him and his eyes were closed.

I love his sleeping form.

He's peaceful. Nothing's bothering him. He's lovely.

Tristan's eyes opened and he saw me staring. "What?" he asked, embarrassed.

"Nothing," I smiled and looked back at the sky. "Nothing at all."

"No, tell me," he complained.

I looked up at him. We were so close.

An inch apart – at the _most_.

I didn't know what to do.

What should I have done? Seriously.

It's his move.

And he made it.

He went past me, on the inside, and nuzzled my ear.

Not quite what I was expecting, but still enough to send me shivers.

"Are you cold?" he went back to his original position and pulled me tighter against his body.

Great. Just what I needed.

"I'm good now," I told him.

He mumbled something.

"What?" I asked, partially knowing what he had said.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything."

I didn't know for sure, but I had an idea.

I think he said 'The death of me…'

I wondered what this meant for the next couple of minutes.

"Are you okay?" he asked me.

I scooted closer to him, if it was even possible.

I know. He has a girlfriend. _Fiancée._

How could I let myself do this?

I was practically the other woman.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why do I have to like the one man that's taken?

This always happens.

I know. I should just stop now. But I couldn't.

I was already here.

I was already doing this.

The deed was practically done. All we had to do was actually _do_ it.

I looked deeper into his eyes.

He wouldn't do that. He was too faithful.

Then again, I never thought I'd be in his arms in the middle of nowhere – just me and him.

Anything could happen, and nobody would know.

I wondered what he was thinking.

The same thing? Oh my god, what if it was something different?

What if he was wishing this would just end?

Maybe I should just sit upright and give him space.

That would be the moral thing to do.

But his eyes…

I was already fixed. He had me. I was trapped.

In my book, this is where I was meant to be.

I couldn't fight it.

It wasn't my fault.

You have to believe me – _it wasn't my fault_.

We just sat there, looking at each other, a few centimeters away.

He could have had me right there.

I was right _there_.

I would have done anything he wanted.

Apparently, he didn't want it.

Because he cleared his throat and started to get untangled from me.

"We'd better go," he said, simply.

"Yeah." Yeah, _right_.

He climbed up front first, and then I did.

We exchanged smiles all the way home.

We also did that stupid little game.

You know the one.

Where one person looks at the other, and when the other person looks back at them, they turn their head, acting like they weren't looking at them, and then when they look back, noticing the other person was still staring at them, the other person looks back and acts like they weren't looking.

Vicious circle.

So that's what happened.

We didn't talk.

But we were saying everything that needed to be said.

I know I probably sound out of it right now.

But that's where we needed to be.

Our questions were answered with just one glance.

Except, of course, the main one that was racing through my mind.

The one that I've asked myself ever since I had this stupid little thing for him.

The one that haunted me whenever I was near him.

When we got to the apartment, I noticed it was already one o'clock in the morning.

We laughed.

"Tristan, I have work in the morning!"

"Sucks for you," he joked.

We took the elevator up to our floor.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Rory," he said, only slightly serious.

"You're such a sap." I swatted him on the arm. We walked out and to our apartments.

"I was trying to be kind, but if you want me to tell the truth…" he joked.

I gasped. "And then what would you say?!"

He advanced to me, making me back up to the wall.

I could feel his breath on my neck.

He could have had me again here.

Tristan went up to my ear and said huskily, "That you were the best date I've ever had."

I couldn't help but blush.

Wait, date?

Did he say date?

"Goodnight, Rory," he said as he took a step backward and quickly disappeared into his room.

I walked on air into my own.

And then I landed hard into the reality of the world.

"Oh my god," I said to myself aloud, "I'm in love with Tristan DuGrey."

A/N: Uh, oh. What's she going to do? So, what'd you guys think? Too fast? I'd like to thank a couple of reviewers, that have made many of my days during this fic. LVRofTristan, for one, you are always my favorite to read. You say the _sweetest _things, and I just appreciate it. Also, the anonymous "Christie" that reviewed last chapter. Thank you so much! You just made me smile for like, the whole night. I really appreciate it. I'm doing so good with this story, length-wise. Every chapter is at _least _ten pages. Anyways, please review! You did so great last chapter! Thanks.


	6. Expo '86 and the Sound of Settling

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 6. Expo '86 and the Sound of Settling**

It's like it snuck up on me.

All the sudden, I had this overwhelming feeling.

And it really, really hurts.

Usually, people say love is a great thing – something that makes you perfectly happy.

All I have to say to them is that they're mindless idiots. Who the hell made love anyway?

I should shoot them.

My heart hurts, my mind hurts, my whole body aches. Why is this happening to me?

It was after work, and I was finishing cleaning my home. It felt good, to be doing something and not just sitting thinking about him.

I was onto my bedroom as he came in.

Just walked right into my apartment acting like nothing was different.

Like I didn't just figure out my feelings toward him.

He went to my desk and sat backwards on the chair, facing my way.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Jerk. Can't you see I'm in the middle of an emotional struggle?

"Cleaning." My back was to him.

"Duh. Why?"

"Felt like it."

"I was thinking…" he started.

"You do that?" I teased him.

He gave me a face. "Yes, I'll have you know." I chuckled. "About high school."

I turned to him then, surprised. "Why?"

"Just came to mind."

"Oh."

I didn't know what to say.

Why would he think about high school when I'm less than five feet away from his apartment, freaking out?

"Because. I heard your mom was dating Mr. Medina. I never got around to asking you if it was correct."

"They got as far as the weekend before the wedding. My mom realized that she really didn't love him and left him."

Okay, maybe that was a little hint.

I don't think he got it, because he just nodded his head.

"That must have been weird. Having your teacher as your father in law. Well, almost."

"It was… different."

He laughed.

"What?"

"Well, what was that supposed to mean?"

"What?"

"Different. Come on. That was a little withheld. Tell me more."

"I don't know what there is to tell. At school he was Mr. Medina, at home he was Max."

"You called him Max?"

"What would you have called him?"

"I would have told my mom to stop dating my teacher, and then I would have been in the situation at all."

"I wanted her to be happy."

"Where was your dad?"

I paused.

"Was that too - "

"No, no. It's fine. He just seemed to pop up whenever. He wasn't really much of a dad, really."

He nodded. "My dad wasn't around much either."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He was always out on business and stuff."

"You must be used to that."

He winced.

"Sorry."

He accepted and changed topics.

"And I was thinking about those PJ Harvey tickets."

I rolled my eyes. "I didn't know why you did that. You knew I wouldn't go – no matter where I found them."

"I went alone, hoping you would see it in between your books. But you didn't."

"Well, I didn't have a stomach to sit next to you for more than one hour."

"I was _crushed_!"

"Good. Served you right."

He laughed. "I had a _huge_ crush on you then."

I paused.

What the hell was I supposed to say to that? I'm sorry? Thanks?

So, I told him the truth.

"It's funny how some roles turn on you."

I saw his face tense.

Why did I say that?

It was far too personal.

Far too _true_.

"Rory…"

And here it comes.

The let down.

"I'm sorry if I did anything to make you believe… that I thought… that we were more than… _friends_."

_If_ you did anything?!

Is he _serious_?

God.

Did he really just say that?

But I put my best smile on and tried not to wince. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Why couldn't I just let him have it?

This is bull.

He knows what he's doing.

He's doing it on purpose.

"Are you sure?" he smiled back. "Because I could have sworn…" he paused.

"What? You could have sworn what?" That I like you so much it hurts my stomach? That it would be impossible to _not _like you with all the things you said and did last night and every single night before that?

You could have sworn _that_?

He shook his head, believing my indifference. "Nothing. It's nothing." He paused again. "We're _friends_, right."

Bull.

I smiled again. "Right. _Friends_."

Whatever.

I'm not going to say that my heart broke into a million pieces.

Because honestly, I'm used to this.

God.

Why did I let myself get so far into this mess?

Was I just supposed to forget everything that happened last night?

God knows I don't want to.

He was so perfect.

We fit together so perfectly.

Why couldn't he just see that?

Michelle and him are horrible.

And Tristan and I are _perfect_.

Why didn't he just _see_ that?

God.

It's all my fault. I should have never submitted to him in the first place.

What an idiot I am.

The next day I went to work.

The same old, same old.

It's not like anything would change just because I have, right?

Still, I just thought it would.

I expected the pictures to be black and white, the lights to be darker…

I don't know.

It just felt like everything was more… dull.

I don't know why, but it just felt like it.

I can't explain it.

But it wasn't.

And it just reminded me that some people were having good days.

I envied them.

When I got off, I picked up my phone.

"_Hello_?"

"Hey."

"_Rory_?"

"Yeah. It's me."

"_What do you need_?"

"Just wondering… could we get dinner tonight? Maybe Thai…?"

I heard a sigh. "_You _hate_ Thai._"

"I know."

Another sigh. "_I'll pick you up at six-thirty_."

"Okay."

He hung up.

I had an hour to get ready.

I took a quick shower, blow dried my hair, and put on make up.

Nothing too complicated, but still enough to look pretty.

I put on nice slacks and a dress up top.

Confident, but not over the top gorgeous.

All I needed for tonight.

Confidence.

Because I really didn't want to do this.

He called me, notifying me that he was outside.

"I'll be right out," I told him, putting on my second shoe.

I grabbed my purse and apartment keys and walked out.

What was I thinking?

Being with him was like pulling my eyes out.

But, who else?

I went down the elevator and saw him for the first time in almost a week.

We didn't talk much until we sat down at Q2.

"Please say something," I pleaded.

"You're the one that invited me on a date."

I sighed. This was not going to be easy. "I just thought I'd be nice."

He narrowed his eyes. "Nice. Yeah. _Nice_."

"Look, Oliver, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I broke up with you, and now I regret it, okay?"

He nodded.

And said nothing.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"So…" I finally said. "What do you think?"

"I'm thinking an appetizer. What do you feel like? Fish, chip, mushroom medley?"

No, thanks.

"Anything is fine," I said.

He ordered.

"And what to drink?" the waitress asked.

"Water, with lemon," I told her.

"Iced tea, please."

Then he said that we weren't ready to order dinner.

"Oh, that's perfectly fine. Take your time."

"Thanks," I said.

I knew what I was going to get.

A trip to the bathroom to throw up.

But this wasn't for me. This was for Oliver.

And right now, I couldn't afford him to get mad at me.

I needed him to see my side.

But not all of it.

Because then he'd get mad at me for leaving him for an engaged man.

Vicious circle.

"I miss you, Oli."

I placed my hand over his.

He nodded. "I've missed you too, Ror."

"Let's try again…?"

I wanted to kill myself for doing this.

Did I have a choice?

No.

"Okay," he whispered.

"Ready to order dinner?" the waitress asked.

"I'll have the Tom Yom."

"Fresh Tuna salad, please," I said.

She wrote it down and went and got our appetizer.

I didn't have any.

We talked about what we've been doing.

I would have said shacking up with Tristan, but I didn't.

I was, after all, trying to get back with him.

Only God knows why.

After dinner, we went back to his apartment.

I tried to get into it, I really did.

I acted like I wanted it.

Like I 'needed' it.

Yeah, right.

It was the worst sex I've ever had in my life.

And that's saying something.

Make-up sex I the best kind? Well, not with Oliver.

But I didn't let him see that I wasn't liking it.

It was better that way.

Right?

Right.

I wanted to do this.

Honestly.

I want to have someone.

Maybe not Oliver in particular, but he was right there.

He was right there.

He was safe.

I didn't have start over.

I didn't have to think about it.

So, maybe it wasn't the smartest decision.

Maybe I was wrong.

But I could always break up with him again, right?

Right.

And then, maybe he is the one.

Ugh.

Hope not.

Oh well.

When I went back to my apartment, I put the keys in the jar and made myself a cup of iced water.

Jen was sleeping on my couch watching television.

I turned it off, and she didn't move.

So I put a blanket over her and shut out the lights.

I walked to my room and changed into my pajamas.

I turned on some music low and sank into bed.

What did I just do?

Why would I do that?

Because, I told myself, Tristan will never want me.

Jen marched into my room at that point.

"Where the hell have you been, Missy?" she demanded.

"Just out." I kept my head down.

"Tristan said he didn't see you. Cynthia didn't see you. Even Joe didn't see you."

"I just went out, Jen."

"With who?"

"Oliver."

"What?! I thought you said you – "

I sniffled on accident.

"Are you crying?"

"He's playing games with me, Jen. Tristan's playing games and I can't take it anymore."

She nodded, sitting on the bed with me.

"It's all up and down with him. One day, I'm all that matters to him. He's flirty, he's kind, he's perfect. The next, he's professing his undying love to Michelle and telling me that all we're going to be is friends." I got up and started pacing around my room.

"What? When'd this happen?"

"We almost kiss – "

"What?!"

"Then he's screwing _Michelle_, and saying how he can't imagine life without her."

"Wait, you kissed him?"

"Almost, it's not even the point."

"When?!" she squeeled.

"All the effing time. We get this close," I motioned with my thumb and index finger, "and he just gets back up to the front seat and drives away."

"You were in his back seat?"

"And there were perfect songs. The stars were absolutely amazing -"

"Stars?"

"But no. I'm never good enough."

"Rory? I'm not making sense of this…"

"I can never be enough for him. Maybe _I_ should go out with an effing Abercrombie model and toy with him and see how he likes it."

"Rory, calm down."

"No! I've been calm for the last _month_ while he's led me on and then dropped me. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of him. He can do whatever he wants from now on, because I'm _out_."

"You don't mean that…"

"What is wrong with me? He has a _fiancée, _Jen. Why the hell did I get involved in the first place? Why didn't I just back off?"

"You love him, you can't help it."

"That's right. I shouldn't even be next to him and his perfect smile. I should move."

She hesitated. "Not exactly what I meant, Ror."

"And then I have the most boring sex with Oliver – "

"What?!"

"And it's all because of _him_." I pointed in the direction of his apartment.

"He's a jerk," she agreed.

"Thank you."

It took a few minutes for me to calm down.

"But… Oliver…?" she asked, with a disgusted face.

I shrugged. "The perfect man didn't bite, Jen. But the _almost_ perfect guy does."

She nodded, standing up and walked toward my shelves.

"So, you're settling?" she asked, softly.

"I'm settling."

She nodded and picked a 6-disk DVD set up.

"Let's watch some Grey's."

I smiled, weakly. "Alright."

She escorted me to the living room.

A/N: I know you guys are going to hate me. But seriously, it's just a filler chapter to get to the next. I'll give you a hint – you all want it to happen. Next chapter is going to be very… fulfilled. I had to fit two songs in this one, because I thought You guys have waited enough for next chapter. Anyways, thanks again to those who review. You can scream at me this time, if you want to. Also, LVRofTristan, you're so sweet! Make a huge one again and make my day again. Hah. Just kidding (I mean, you can if you want to…). Thanks, again. Review, all of you!


	7. Transatlanticism

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 7. Transatlanticism**

I banged my head on the wall behind my bed.

I was so effing bored, even Grey's Anatomy couldn't do it for me anymore.

Maybe that's because I was up for most of last night in a marathon of it.

I breathed deeply.

I looked off into nowhere in particular.

Did he think I was just some mindless person that didn't have any feelings?

Of course not, I reasoned. He was only thinking about himself.

Who has he already spent money on to get a ring sized to fit on her perfect finger? (_Michelle_.)

Who would look best in lingerie? (_Michelle_.)

Who looked best at his side? (_Michelle_.)

Who would clean up his apartment the best? (Me.)

Who gave him the best orgasm?

Okay, honestly, I hope that one didn't count because technically I haven't had the chance yet.

Unless he's doing something in his apartment to me…

I smiled.

Then I'd be completely flattered.

And then I'd come before her (insert dirty reference _here_), because he's thinking about _me_ naked and not his _fiancée_.

But, apparently, with how he's acting to his recently returned partner, he hasn't though about me very much.

So, who wins?

If he's playing unfairly by the questions, it's _Michelle_, four to me, one.

(She wins, but ah… _unfairly_. So, technically, I win by default.)

If he plays fairly and _has_ though about me that way, it's three to two.

(She wins, but I get his thoughts at night, so again, I win.)

If he plays fairly and _hasn't_ thought about me that way, it's four to one.

(She wins, no contest. Damn it.)

"What are you doing?" he asked me, advancing toward my bed and sitting next to me.

I didn't turn my head to him, but watched him through the corner of my eye. "Nothing, actually. Want to go out? I'm begging you."

Tristan chuckled. "Can't. Michelle…"

"Right. She let you out without a leash today?" I teased, but really, I meant it.

He laughed again, noticeably uncomfortable. "She puts her claws away sometimes, Ror. They're just always out when you're around."

"I wonder why that is…?" Maybe because she's not as dense as you and can see that I'm so effing into you, it's not even funny anymore.

"She's just territorial."

"So, she thinks of you as an object she can just show off?"

"You're putting words in my mouth…"

"Because that doesn't sound like the perfect housewife, now does it?"

"Rory…"

"She does, doesn't she?"

He paused. "She just doesn't like having things out of her control is all."

What_ever_.

She goes off for weeks at a time and expects him to keep his hands off girls.

Did he tell her about our little road trip the other night?

Of course not.

Did he tell her that he comes to my apartment almost every night and sleeps on my couch, not ten feet from my bed?

Of course not.

Did he tell her we've almost kissed a billion times?

No.

You want to know why?

Because he wants to stick with her.

Because she's an effing model.

I cursed my looks.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"Stuff."

"Cryptic."

"I guess."

"Why don't you tell me? We're supposed to be best friends."

"Why aren't you in there with your _fiancée_?"

"She's at the store."

"Buying whipped cream?" I eyed him down, making sure he noticed. "You guys go through that bottle awfully fast, don't you think?"

I could tell her was trying really hard to keep from getting angry. "Don't judge me, Rory."

I shook my head, slightly. "I wasn't judging."

"Really? What were you doing then?"

"I was…" Quick Rory, make something up. "Merely making an observation."

"Bull _shit_. You've done nothing _but_ judge Michelle and my relationship with her since you saw her."

"Maybe that's because two seconds before I found out you were _engaged_, we were flirting like _crazy_ and joking about having sex," I raised my voice a little and got off the bed.

As I started walking out of the room, he followed me.

"_Joking_, Rory. You just said it. We were having a fun conversation between _friends_."

God, I hate that word.

I didn't know what to do. It all just started spilling out.

"You _know_ we're not just friends, Tristan! We've never been just _friends_."

He looked like I had slapped him.

"Don't even try to pretend that you don't realize it," I finished.

Why did I say that?

What the hell is wrong with me?

There's things that just can't be said, and that's one of them.

His face just got all tense and I could see that he was jamming his hands in his pockets.

"I uh… got to get back. She should be home soon."

I wanted to laugh at his word: "home".

Maybe she had a home, but it was definitely not with him. I knew that much.

But I decided to just nod and look at my shoes.

He walked out of the living room and out my door. I heard it shut lightly.

What the hell was that face he gave me?

It looked almost… realizing.

If that makes any sense.

Like he had been slapped in the face with the reality of our relationship.

Part of me wanted to say that he deserved it.

That he had it coming – for putting me off for so long.

Leading me on for longer.

But the other part, the one that won, wanted to kill myself.

How could I have possibly been so selfish?

It was getting dark outside.

I had a date with Oliver in an hour.

I jumped in the shower, to wash my dirty, emotionally-cheating ass off.

Then I realized something myself.

I had thought that _I_ was settling for _Oliver_.

But no.

He didn't deserve my aforementioned cheating self.

_He_ was settling for _me_.

When I got out, I banged my head against the wall again.

Apparently, I've become a masochist.

The date went fine. We had cheap burgers.

Cheap fries.

Cheap, under-syruped coke.

Again, I tried to get into the sex.

After a while, I told him it wasn't going to happen tonight.

I didn't feel up to faking it tonight.

I didn't feel up to do anything, as a matter of fact.

He took that answer and went himself and rolled off me.

His brown hair and outline cheekbones were outlined by the moon's light.

"Anything wrong?" he asked me.

"No, why?" I lied.

"You just seem… distant since we've started up again."

"I'm fine," I assured him.

"Okay."

We laid there for a while.

"I'll take you home," he finally offered.

Thank god.

When I got up to my room, Tristan was fumbling with his keys to get in his.

We looked awkwardly at each other.

"Hey," he started. "Michelle and I are having a party tomorrow night. Lots of booze, lots of drugs – the usual stuff. You're invited."

I didn't know why he was talking to me, to be honest.

But I didn't have time to answer, because he disappeared into his apartment and shut the door fast.

A party, huh?

With _Michelle_.

"I don't know," I told Jen the next day.

"Come on. It's Friday night. I'm not going out, because I'm going to the party. Where else would you go?"

I shrugged. She was right. Oliver had a writer's convention and would be gone the whole weekend. The only way I could reach him was his cell phone. And even then, he had to keep it off. 'Spoils the mood,' he told me when I asked. Whatever.

"Come with me. It'll be boring without you there."

"I don't know how long I will stay, then. These things are always so boring."

"You just don't want to be around Tristan after what you said."

"That, too."

"How bad could it have been?"

"You have no idea."

"It's his own damn fault for toying with you like he has been."

"Jen…"

"I know, I know. You have this outrageous feeling to defend him and I don't even know why. It makes no sense."

"We are still friends."

"Yeah, but I'm your best-best friend. I should get priority."

I rolled my eyes. "It's different."

"Just because you love him."

It sounded so… serious when that word came out of her mouth.

She sensed my tension and changed the subject.

"Just come. Who knows? Maybe you'll have fun."

"Fun?"

"Yeah, you know that thing when you're not all bogged down in work or your idiot boyfriend."

I smiled a little. "Oh, _that_."

"Live a little."

I sighed heavily. "Fine, fine."

She squealed and hugged me, jumping up and down.

"But I'm leaving whenever I want."

"Deal."

"And you buy me dinner."

She laughed. "Nice try."

What was I going to say to Tristan once I was there?

What was he going to feel?

Did he hate me?

Did he get it?

Did he finally realize?

I hope not.

No, I don't. I _do _hope.

No. I don't.

God. I can't make up my effing mind.

"Let's go get dressed."

"I have to _dress up_ for this? Deal's off!" I complained.

"Shut up. You know you want to go."

Then I realized why she was my best friend.

Because I _did _want to go.

"I have nothing to _wear_," I said, when we were facing my closet.

She huffed, and then put her hand to her chin. She pulled out some items.

"Your jean mini, because, _hello_, you look 'h', 'o', double 't' _hot _in it. And your silver halter."

I sighed. "Fine. If you say so."

"Okay. Well, I've got to get ready too. Want to help me pick out mine?"

I shrugged. "It seems you don't need much help in finding something suitable to wear. You always turn out great."

"Thanks, Ror. Well, I'm going to go. Put some curlers in your hair too. Big ones. The large waves give a nice effect on your bare shoulders."

I smiled. "Great idea. Thanks."

I took a shower and put the curlers in my hair, like Jen had advised.

I took a deep breath.

Something was telling me that this was going to be a big night.

I walked around in my towel for a little bit.

I ate a cup of yogurt.

I drank a small cup of orange juice.

I put on my panties and matching bra.

Then I slathered lotion on my legs.

The lotion was called Japanese Cherry Blossom. It was my favorite.

Tristan had picked it up for me about a month ago.

I blow dried my hair.

Then I slipped on the dark-wash miniskirt.

I had to admit, my legs looked great. Not in a conceited way, though. More of a… thankful way.

Jen shouted for me as she came in.

"Come in here and help me tie the halter," I yelled back.

She came and tied it.

"You look wonderful!" I told her. She had on a miniskirt too, but hers was a little shorter than mine. Big shock. She also had a red spaghetti strap top on. It complimented her skin well.

"Just wait until we get those curlers down. You'll steal the party."

"I'm sure _Michelle _wouldn't like that," I mumbled.

She didn't respond to that, but said, "Let me do your make up. The party's already started."

"Fashionably late."

She smiled, smudging concealer on me. "Always."

When she was done, she unleashed the waves and picked out some silver heals for me to wear.

She was wearing stilettos.

I looked in the mirror. We looked like we would belong at a model's party.

That kind of scared me for a moment.

Who was I trying to be?

I pushed those thoughts away as Jen squealed with excitement and pulled me toward the door.

I shoved her off as I brushed my teeth.

"You're taking _forever_," she complained.

I picked up the mouthwash.

"Come _on_."

"I've got to have good breath, right?"

She tapped her foot, then said, "Give me some of that."

I laughed slightly as I swished it around in my mouth.

"All ready," I said, as I spit it out.

We were on our way to the door.

We opened it and stepped to Tristan's.

My feet weighed a ton.

Each.

But when I got in there, I felt the most out of place I have.

Of course, I didn't look it.

The girls were wearing less than Jen – and that's saying something.

I exchanged glances with Tristan and he quickly looked away.

We're playing that stupid game again.

I decided to stop playing.

The next hour, I poured myself drinks – one beer, two waters.

I sat down and started getting harassed by this one guy. He had hair plugs.

I told him that I had to go, had a prior engagement, and went in search for Jen.

She was dancing with some guy.

"I going to go," I told her.

She gave me a look and I shrugged my shoulders and left.

I walked ten steps to my own apartment.

I took off all the make up and laid on the bed.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale.

Hold.

Hold.

Exhale.

"I figured you'd leave soon."

I jumped six feet.

He chuckled.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's okay, Tristan."

He walked to my bed hesitantly. When I didn't say anything, he laid down next to me.

He was breathing, too.

"You feel it, too. Don't lie to me," my voice was really quiet.

He propped himself on his elbow.

After looking in my eyes for about ten seconds, he looked down.

"I feel it, too," he said, his voice even softer than mine.

I could still hear him breathing.

"I'm with Michelle," he said, like it explained everything.

"I'm with Oliver…?" I returned. What I was really saying was that we could still love each other if we had a person waiting for us.

He was quiet and I knew he got what I meant.

"You're wearing the shirt you wore on New Years," he told me.

I looked down. "How would you know?"

He smiled. "Because I couldn't keep my eyes off you."

I didn't know what to say.

I didn't need to.

Because right then, at that moment, his lips came crashing onto mine.

He rolled over on top of me, kissing me hard.

He tugged my shirt over my head and I did the same.

I breathed hard and kept my eyes closed as he started kissing my chest.

And a little… lower. My hands got lost in his blonde hair.

He traced his hand up my leg.

From my calf to my knee.

From my knee to the back of my thigh.

The grabbed hard onto that.

I'm so glad I wore my black lace underwear set tonight.

It all felt so good.

So _right_.

So _insanely_ stimulating.

We were both breathing heavily, and he came back up to kiss my lips.

He went back to my neck.

I moaned, "Tristan."

"Oh, Rory," he said back to me.

Then he lifted his head and I caught glimpse of his widened eyes.

Oh, no.

"Oh, my god," he said, getting up.

"What? What is it?!"

I needed him back on top of me.

He pulled his discarded shirt over his head.

"Michelle…" he explained and paused, "I have to go."

His voice sounded desperate.

He left without another word.

I took off my skirt and sunk lower in my bed, tears threatening to spill.

Definitely a masochist.

A/N: gasp What did they just do?! I was going to have this chapter based on the song Tiny Vessels, for obvious reasons. But this sound was so much more like them. Give it a listen. Two more chapters. I'm very sad but excited. Review!


	8. We Looked Like Giants

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 8. We Looked Like Giants**

"I can't do this again. I'm sorry."

"Rory…"

"You deserve better than me, Oli. Honestly. You deserve so much better."

He sighed. "Again, Rory?"

"I thought I could change to fit." I shrugged. "I just can't."

I could tell he was tensing. "Shouldn't it be my decision if you're good enough for me or not?"

I hated that question. "I won't let you. You should be happy. You can't be happy with me. I can't be happy with doing this to you."

"I'm not going to be happy if you're breaking up with me."

"In the long run…" I looked down.

This was harder than the first time. Maybe it was because we were facing each other this time.

We were in a coffee house.

He was quiet when he said, "It's him, isn't it?"

I couldn't lie to him, so I just didn't say anything.

"Didn't you tell me he was engaged?"

I nodded slightly.

"Has that changed?"

I shook my head.

"Then why are you leaving me?"

I shrugged again.

He took a deep breath and let it out loudly. "You love him."

I looked up in his eyes. "I don't want to," I whispered.

He nodded, stood and put on his jacket.

"I really do hope everything works out with you and him, Rory."

I almost cried right then.

He took a step but stopped and turned toward me again. "And you're not a bad person. I get it."

I mouthed, 'Thank you,' not trusting it to come out without tears.

I let a tear escape, and that let the floodgates loose.

I wasn't just crying because I was assuredly was ending one part of my life.

I was crying for Tristan.

For myself.

I was crying in frustration. I hadn't talked to Tristan yet.

It was, in fact, only one day later.

He's been avoiding me.

I don't even know why.

It was one of the most passionate kisses I've ever received. I couldn't stop running it through my head.

"Coffee, miss?"

A woman's voice tore me out of my thoughts.

I sniffled. "Thanks."

"That was one hell of a break up."

I wiped my cheeks. "Yeah."

"Well, I hope you fix whatever it is that you're crying about."

I nodded, taking a sip of the newly filled coffee mug.

"Thanks."

I didn't even care who saw me.

Because if they were in my position, they'd do the same thing.

On my walk home, I took short, long steps.

I didn't want to see him.

No, I did.

I just didn't want him to reject me again.

I don't understand how he could after something like _that_.

It was so…

I don't even know.

_Right_.

I know I probably sound so _stupid_, but I can't imagine being without him.

He's so… amazing.

I know what you're thinking:

How can she possibly be in love in this short a time period?

Honestly, I have no idea.

He's just so… _perfect_.

And nice. And gorgeous. And _everything_.

His mere existence makes the hair on my back stand up.

I opened the glass doors of my apartment building.

I could hardly feel my feet move.

What would he say?

Would he deny it ever happened?

Did he break up with _Michelle_?

Not likely. But, still, I hope.

I _hope_.

There are still tears in my eyes, but I try desperately to rid them in the elevator.

Sure enough, he was pacing in the hallway of the second floor.

Tension was in the air.

"Where's _Michelle_?"

"Gone. She had to go do a shoot in Florida. She'll be back in two days."

I nodded.

Then, I advanced to him hesitantly.

"I'm really glad I got to you now."

"Yeah." I paused and cocked my head. "How long have you been out here, anyway?"

"Oh, not long, really." He took a breath. "You know, an hour or so."

I gasped.

"But that's not what I've wanted to talk about. Could we go in your apartment or something?"

Not a safe zone.

I can't promise I won't try anything, Tristan.

He was looking as cute as ever.

Low-hung jeans, a tight shirt.

I remembered running my hands over those abs last night.

I closed my eyes. "Yeah. That's fine."

He smiled. Oh, that smile. "Good."

We walked into my living room and took a seat.

"Look, about last night – " I started.

"It was a mistake."

I must have blinked a million times.

Is he kidding me?

_Is he joking_?!

How can something like that be a mistake?

I pushed away some more tears that were forming.

"I mean, wasn't it?" he asked me.

No. No it wasn't.

It was great.

It was intense.

It was _perfect_.

_Not_ a mistake.

"Uhm…" was all I could get out.

No. No it wasn't. It _wasn't_.

"No," I protested and stood up. "It wasn't a mistake. Tristan… do you know how long…"

I was trying so hard to keep it together.

"What do you mean?" he asked, standing with me.

"You know damn well what I mean. Tristan, don't do this. You even said that you liked me, too."

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"I _do_ like you, Rory. _Too _much. I like you _too much_. I'm sorry it has to be like this. It's just… I love her. You know?"

"But she doesn't love you! Can't you see that? God, she's got you in the palm of her hand and you can never find her when _you_ need her."

He was abnormally calm during my outburst.

I don't know what came over me.

I just needed to tell him that I _didn't _understand.

That it _wasn't_ a mistake.

That I loved him more than she ever would.

He ran another hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Rory."

A tear slipped down my cheek then.

I wasn't really planning on that.

I wasn't really planning on anything, but I definitely wasn't prepared for him to pick her _again_.

"Just have fun with Oliver."

"I _broke up_ with him. I don't expect you to recognize the gesture," I spat out.

His face flinched.

"I'm sorry, Rory. If we had met under different circumstances, there would be no question. But… it's really bad timing."

Damn bad timing.

"Sure," I said, angrily.

"Please don't cry."

I bit my lip. "I'm not crying."

"Don't be mad at me, then."

I nodded and tried to look anywhere but him.

"I think you should go," I told him, rather rudely.

He nodded, and saw himself out.

Jen came in not two minutes after.

"What's wrong with Mr. Smiley Pants outside?"

"What?" I asked, slightly annoyed – not in the mood for her jokes.

"Tristan. He's moping."

"We kissed last night," I blurted out.

She gasped. "_What?!_"

"After I left the party. I came home and he came on my bed with me."

She gaped. "Did you have sex?!"

I looked down. "Almost."

"What happened?"

I bit my lip and could hardly get the words out of my mouth. "He remembered _Michelle_. And he went back to _her_."

She could tell I was right on the verge of tears.

"Oh, honey." She put her arm around me.

"I broke up with Oliver."

She nodded. "Good."

"I thought I was making myself open for Tristan."

"Please, do _not_ go back to Oliver. _Please_."

I smiled a little. "Don't worry. He's long gone."

She let out a relieved sigh. "Thank god."

I fidgeted with my hands. "What am I going to _do_, Jen? I don't know how to handle…"

I couldn't finish to the arising croak in my throat.

She petted my hair. "Pray he comes around."

I nodded slightly. "And if he doesn't?"

She looked down. "Then he's an idiot." I gave her a look. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

I nodded, and started to cry. "It really, really hurts."

She took me in her arms. "I know."

That night, I took a trip down to Joe's to get plastered.

That's what I needed: alcohol.

"Rory!" Joe screamed when I walked in.

"Thank god someone loves me." I sat on at the bar.

"I've _missed_ you. No one to play cards with," he said with a sad face.

"I'm afraid that I didn't come here to play cards."

"Bad day?"

"You have no idea." I put my head down on the counter.

He shook his head. "What'll you have?"

I thought, but only a second. "_Anything_ very, very strong."

"I hear ya', sister"

He made something and set it in front of me.

"Immensely strong."

"Thanks, Joe."

He nodded as I took the first sip. I coughed dryly.

"You alright?"

"This is perfect, thanks."

I took a big gulp and it burned down my throat.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked.

I closed my eyes. "Not particularly."

He nodded, understanding.

So I drank.

And drank.

And drank.

I had about six of those 'immensely strong' drinks and I thought I wouldn't make it back to my room.

I almost didn't.

When I tried to get off the stool, I tripped and my hands caught the floor before my face did.

"Whoopsie!" I said, as I grabbed my purse off the ground.

"You alright there, Tipsy?"

"Oh yeah!" I waved my hand at him. "No _problem_."

I almost fell again.

"Are you sure?" he was slightly laughing.

"I'm _positive._"

I stumbled all the way down the street to building. It was really dark.

When I got up to my room, the lights in the hallway were dimmed, as they always were after 11 p.m.

I dropped my keys.

"Damn it!" I yelled and crawled on the floor, trying to find them.

I heard a door behind me open and close.

"Thank god, Jen. I dropped my damn keys and I can't find them. I had a little _too_ much to drink," I laughed and turned my head.

"You're… not Jen," I finished.

"No, I'm not," he said and smiled.

Eff that smile.

"What?" He was giving me a weird look.

I think I said that out loud. The whole smile thing.

"Uhm… nothing."

"So, you need help?" he asked.

"Not from _you_," I said, stubbornly.

He held up my keys in front of my face.

"Oh," I said, sheepishly.

"You went to the bar?"

"Wouldn't you want to know," I said, standing up.

I tried to adjust my purse on my shoulder, but got caught with the straps.

He advanced to me and helped me get it straightened out.

He was very close to me.

It must have been the alcohol. It must have messed up my instincts.

I leaned in and kissed him hard.

I lost my hands in his hair, and he put his arms around me.

He returned it.

After a few long moments, he pushed me away.

He returned the kiss!

"Yeah," I said, "that's what I thought."

"Rory… I just wanted to say – "

But I had already entered my apartment and shut the door.

He would have said that was a mistake too.

Apparently, his body gets stolen from someone else every time we're together.

I drank a lot of liquid before I went to bed and crashed.

Monday morning, I woke up. I slept all Sunday, not noticing.

I didn't want to run into Tristan in the hallway.

I intentionally left early.

I missed Javier and entered the doors of my magazine's headquarters a half an hour early.

"Rory!" my boss yelled and then looked at the clock. "Are pigs flying?"

"They just might."

He laughed.

"How was your weekend?" he asked.

"Shitty, yours?"

He cocked his head for a second, then said, "I went snorkeling."

"Fun, I bet."

"It was great."

"Great. Well, I'm going to go work. Maybe I'll be able to get out of here early today."

He nodded.

It was a bore. I got most of my work done, and was just looking in the magazine on my break. I only had an hour left to occupy myself.

I flipped a couple of pages and then got to the 'Celebrities' page.

I saw Ellen Pompeo with T.R. Knight.

I saw Reese Witherspoon and a story about why she and her husband broke up.

I saw Paris Hilton with her puppy.

What the hell was that in the background?

I narrowed my eyes, trying to make it out.

"Oh my god," I said to myself.

"Oh my god!" I said again.

"Gilmore!" my boss called again.

He appeared in the doorway of my cubicle.

"Hm?" I asked, still looking at the picture.

"Are you ready to go home?"

I looked up at him, my eyes widening. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I about died calling for a taxi and urged him to break laws to get to my apartment faster.

"Tristan!" I screamed at his door.

"Tristan!"

He opened and I let myself in.

"What the hell?" he asked, ruffling up his hair a bit.

I shoved the picture in his face. He took it and squinted.

"So what? Paris goes out partying like, every night."

"Not Paris. Look in the crowd behind her."

I almost beamed.

This was it. This is what I needed.

"Is that…?"

"Yes! It's _Michelle_! And she's kissing someone else! Obviously, she's not everywhere she says she is."

I tried to look like I wasn't basking in it.

He shrugged his shoulders and threw it on the coffee table.

"What?! What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Rory, that doesn't say anything."

I could have slapped him.

How… What… Who did he think he was?

I wanted to kill him.

How could he do that? How could he act like it was nothing?

I started to cry again.

Shit.

He was doing it again. He was playing with me again.

He was staying with her _again_.

"Rory… Please look at me," he pleaded.

I strained my eyes to lift them off the floor.

"What do you want me to _do_?" I asked him.

I felt completely… I don't know… belittled, I guess. Not good enough.

"I want… I don't know, Rory. I want you to understand."

"Understand _what_, Tristan? Do you think I'm going to be _happy_?! She's cheating on you – I have pictures!"

"Michelle is… She's different, Rory."

"You mean she's _pretty_," I scoffed.

"I _mean_," he stressed, "that I love her. I'm keeping the engagement."

"You'd marry someone who's cheating on you rather than be with someone who _loves_ you…?" I couldn't believe it.

"I told you, Rory. If we met under different circum – "

"These _are _different circumstances, Tristan! They're right here!" I pointed at the discarded picture. I didn't know where this confidence was coming from. "Leave her. Be with me. _Marry_ me."

"I want _her_!" he screamed at me.

He might have well slapped me.

His words sliced through my heart.

A long, awkward moment passed. He ran his hand through his hair multiple times.

"Oh," I whispered. "I see."

Tears threatened to fall. I could feel them. They were haunting me.

Another couple of minutes passed.

"Rory…" he tried.

"Okay," I said, breathily, trying to hold my sobs in. "Well, I have work tomorrow. And I don't think I'm ready for it…"

I started to walk past him.

"Rory…" he tried again.

I waved it off and closed his door after me.

Once in the safety of my own, private room, I fell apart.

A/N: THE END! Ha, just kidding. One more chapter, though. Review, please! Also, I'm in need for a story idea. Any challenges? Also, where _do_ people get challenges? It seems like everyone knows about them but me! So, review, and tell me my answer.


	9. A Lack of Color

**A Lack of Color**

**by four51**

**Chapter 9. A Lack of Color**

I sat up from sleep with sweat all over me. My legs were shaking and I was soft… down there.

Third dream this week. It was always the same.

We'd be in my room, he'd be kissing me…

Basically what happened last weekend.

Only, in my dream, he didn't stop.

He didn't have a girlfriend.

Well, maybe he did, but that didn't get in his way.

In _my_ dream life, Tristan knew Michelle was horrible for him.

And that I was perfect.

That's right. I was _perfect_ for him.

_I_ was perfect in my dream.

I took a deep breath.

I haven't told Jen all that happened. She didn't know that he humiliated me.

She didn't know that he wasn't going to come to me because he wanted a skinnier, hotter model.

She didn't know.

But she begged me to talk to her the other night, right after it happened…

This was all that was said:

"You need to talk to me, Ror."

"Just go away, Jen." My voice was quiet, due to the amount of blankets covering my face and body.

"You look sick."

"I'm fine."

"Tell me what happened."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You need to."

"No, I don't."

"You don't know. It might help."

"I _do_ know. It never helps. I just end up crying." Not that I didn't do that all night.

She stayed silent, like she knew I was right.

"Well, would you see what I have, then?"

I lifted my head from the comforters. I smiled slightly.

"Grey's Anatomy, Season 3."

"I thought they didn't have it on DVD yet."

"Just came out yesterday. I had to pay sixty bucks for this sucker. You better watch it with me."

"Can I bring my blankets?"

She rolled her eyes animatedly. "Of _course_!"

I smiled a little more and got up, wrapping a light blue comforter around my body.

As I passed her to the living room, I whispered. "Thanks, Jen."

"No problem, girly. I just needed someone to watch seventeen hours of drama with me."

Then after that, she backed off.

And for that, I was very thankful.

I haven't seen him.

I was also thankful for that.

I checked my alarm clock. It was 5 o'clock.

I laid back down on my bed, but my eyes wouldn't close.

So, I got up and threw the covers off of me.

I went to the bathroom and ran myself a hot bath.

I ducked down into it and let it submerge my whole body.

When I didn't have any breath left, I finally came back up.

I had work in four hours. Yuck.

I see her everywhere.

I hated that she was getting more and more popular.

The woman that was so much better than I was – at everything, probably.

I hated her.

I know it's not her fault that she has great sex and Tristan doesn't want to leave it.

And I know it's horrible to think up ways she could die.

I hit my head at the way I think sometimes.

I just want him back.

I want my best friend back.

I want my flirting-buddy back.

I just wanted all of him back.

But I know that if I did get him back, I could never have him like I want him.

It would be so awkward. Honestly.

After everything that happened, every fantasy I have now…

I don't think I can just be his friend now.

I need him all. And he's never going to give me that.

Ever.

I guess I'll just have to get used to not having him around.

I guess… I'm going to have to stop needing him.

Stop needing his presence every night after work.

Stop needing his touch on my cheek.

His body leaning against mine when he falls asleep in them middle of the movie.

I miss him.

When I got out of the bathtub, I dried myself off.

Then I changed into my clothes. My work clothes. A pencil skirt, a white button up top, and a green cardigan.

I checked the time. 7:30.

Close enough.

I grabbed my briefcase and headed out the door.

Guess who was out in the hallway?

Ding, ding, ding.

Tristan DuGrey.

Both of our eyes got wide as we searched for escape routes.

We got nothing.

I straightened out my clothes and started to walk into the elevator as he reluctantly followed.

I pressed 'L' for lobby and we waited.

"Rory…" he started.

"Don't," I warned.

I couldn't hear his voice anymore.

"I want to talk to you…"

I looked everywhere but him. "Well, I want a lot of things," like you, "But we all can't have what we want."

I could tell he was frustrated.

"Rory…" he pleaded.

The doors opened, and I started to walk out.

"Let me give you a ride?" he asked.

Then I looked into his eyes. The first time since he basically told me that he'd never want me.

I crumbled. "Okay," I whispered.

Shit.

Why did I just say that?

Think, Rory, Think.

What to do. How can I get out of it?

He motioned me to follow him out of the building.

Here, I know what to do!

When we were outside, I skillfully said, "Actually, my cab is almost here. I should just catch that. I don't want you to go out of your way…"

I couldn't look in his eyes because I knew I'd give in again.

"Well, where is it? I'll pay him for his inconvenience."

Crap!

"Uhm, well…" I stumbled over my words, looking everywhere for an answer.

He laughed, knowing my lie.

"Seriously, Rory. Come on. One ride can't hurt." You have no idea, Tristan.

I looked in his eyes and I knew he saw them filled with tears.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Come on, Ror," he whispered and held his hand out.

I narrowed my eyes at it. I walked past him and toward his car, rejecting his gesture.

"Okay," he said, noticing my hesitation to touching him.

We got in and buckled up 'for safety.'

Nothing could save me right now. Especially a woven piece of cloth.

"Would you please just look at me?"

I strained to lift my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

What's _wrong_?!

"You know damn well what's wrong!" I shouted at him, frustrated.

He took a deep breath. "You're right. Stupid question."

He kept his eyes on the road as he made toward my work's building.

I looked out the window and watched the scenery move past the glass.

"Don't shut me out, Rory," he whispered.

I let a tear slip down.

Then I looked at him.

"What do you want me to _do_?" I asked.

"I want…" he started, but then ran a hand through his hair. "I want… I want everything to go back to normal."

"I can't stand normal right now. I can't talk to you," my voice broke and more tears started to flow, "like nothing has happened. I _love _you, Tristan. And you don't care. You don't _care_."

He was quiet for a little while. That's the only answer I needed.

I said, "You can just let me out right here."

"But you're work is…"

I didn't care what he said, I just got out of the car when he pulled at the stop light. I ran to the sidewalk and started walking fast for the 3 blocks to my work.

This was going to be a long day.

The next week, I ran into him a couple of times, but I practically ran away or got out of it somehow.

He didn't knock on my door afterwards, so I thought maybe he didn't want to see me either.

I heard Michelle through the night sometimes.

I couldn't handle it.

"I need to get out of here," I told Michelle.

She looked surprised. "Okay, maybe we could take a vacation to – "

I shook my head.

She stopped. "Oh…" she whispered.

"I can't stay here," I started to cry again.

She nodded, looking to the floor of my apartment's kitchen.

I was making dinner.

"It's okay. Maybe we can have Cynthia kick him out or something – "

"No. I don't want him to be penalized. This is all my fault." I was taking my anger out on the Rice-O-Roni.

"How is it _your_ fault, Rory?"

"I let myself get so far in love with a taken guy, Jen! How could I let myself be so _stupid_?!" I banged my wooden spoon on the pan.

She went over to me and hugged me tight. "This is _not _your fault. He's such an asshole, Rory. Anyone can see that you're so much better than stupid _Michelle_."

I cried on her shoulder. "She's so pretty…"

"_You _are too. You're more than pretty. You're intelligent, you can hold your own in a conversation. You're absolutely _perfect_ for him. For _anyone_."

I'm perfect.

_I'm_ perfect.

I'm _perfect_?

No. He was the perfect one, wasn't he?

Tristan has always been the perfect one.

How could _I_ be the perfect one?

"Because you're so sweet," she answered. I wasn't aware I'd said those things aloud. "You're so nice, and compassionate. You have the hugest heart I know. You're also really funny, and you are smart. And you're everything, Rory. Can't you see that?"

I muffled a thanks as I continued to sob on her shoulder.

It hurt. It really did.

After, she took my face in her hands. "You don't worry. It'll work out if it needs to. If it doesn't, it wasn't meant to be. In the meantime, you should do whatever makes you happy. If it's moving, then I'll support you. Of course, I won't be able to stay at your place until all hours of the night, because I won't just need to walk two feet to my room, but we'll make it work."

I sniffled. "Thanks, Jen. You're my best friend."

She smiled. "You're mine too, honey. Now," she wiped the tears off my cheeks, "finish the dinner, and I'll go pick out some movies. Harry Potter sound good?"

I smiled slightly and nodded my head. "And the Goblet of Fire."

"You got it, girly."

After I stirred a while and got it cooked, I went to look for Jen. I heard voices outside, and I stepped by my door to eavesdrop on them.

"You _broke_ her, Tristan. You broke her, and now I have to fix what _you_ did. And I don't want to fix any more of her broken heart than what is already there, so _no_. You _cannot_ go see her. You just don't get it do you?"

"I just want to explain…"

"She doesn't want to hear it! She doesn't want to talk to you unless you say you've broken up with Michelle."

"I can't… I… Jen, Michelle is…."

"She gives great sex. I know. We _all_ know. The whole _block_ knows. But can she talk to you like Rory does? Can you confide in her, or feel the way around her like you do with Rory?"

It was quiet for a while.

"Then _why _are you with her?"

It was quiet again.

"I love her."

"Who do you love more?"

It was silent.

Then I heard footsteps come toward my apartment. I quickly ran to my kitchen.

She walked in, rubbing both her temples near her eyes.

"You didn't have to protect me, Jen. I can handle it."

She cocked her head at me, but quickly realized what I was talking about. "You shouldn't have to handle it. He's such a jerk, I just want to…" She clenched her fist and put it up in the air.

I sighed. "I can't be around him and just act like everything's okay," I said, quietly.

She looked down, "I'm going to miss you."

"You're starting to cry?" I asked, incredulously. "We're going to see each other all the time! It's not like you can get rid of me _that_ easily." I joked.

She laughed a little but said, "You're not going to be my roomie anymore. You're going away and we can't have all-nighters and still sleep in our own beds when we get too tired to walk."

"You can sleep on my couch, and I can sleep on yours. It'll be fine!" I went over and hugged her. "I just… I can't keep getting reminded what Michelle and him are doing in his apartment. I can't get away from her at work, I _need _to get away from her in my free time."

She nodded and she wiped her tears away. "I'm still going to miss coming home to you every night."

"What are we, married?!" I joked again.

She laughed. "We might as well be."

We laughed together.

"You're my best friend," she told me, hugging me tighter.

"You're mine, too."

We stood there for a while.

"Who knows? Maybe I can get one around here. How does that sound?"

She smiled. "Thanks, Rory."

The next few days, I went out in search.

I wanted an apartment that was not too big but not too small. One bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room. Not too much to ask, right?

Wrong.

I must have gone to so many different buildings, that they all started to look the same at the end.

But I did end up finding one. The paint was nice, it came with a mattress, refrigerator and microwave. It had everything I was looking for.

Except him.

I told them that I would take it.

All I had to do was pack up, pay, and move in by the first of the month. That was at the end of the week.

So I packed.

Jen helped me.

I started moving on Friday, getting everything but a toothbrush, brush, a blanket, and some clothes to wear tomorrow. I was moving.

I sat on the mattress and then laid down on it.

"I'm moving," I told myself, trying to make sense of it.

It all seemed so quick.

I said I was going to move.

So I did.

But I couldn't help feeling… bad.

But then I heard Michelle.

Then I felt better.

I was getting out of here.

I couldn't deal with this anymore. I couldn't be around him. I can't…

I can't be next to him and not be _with _him.

It hurts to much.

Jen already said bye to me when she left after helping me move. So tomorrow, all I had to do was put some things in a backpack after using them, and walk to the other building.

Then I had to pay.

It was a little cheaper than my current place, totaling four hundred dollars less.

Which I was happy for.

Cynthia was freaking out. She was complaining about what she was going to do. She couldn't find another person to rent it out. She couldn't fill me. She was going to miss me. How could I do this to her?

Thinks like that.

But I soon fell into a slumber and woke to my phone beeping from the alarm I put on it. 6:30.

I packed up everything, and changed clothes.

I walked through every room, not sure I was ready to leave yet.

But I knew I had to.

I opened the door wide, letting the brightness fill the hallway.

I went back into the kitchen to get the water bottle I stashed in there last night.

When I came back, Tristan filled the doorway, his eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" he asked, suddenly.

I kept my eyes elsewhere, not trusting myself to look at him.

"I'm moving."

He nodded slowly, quietly. "You're _moving_?"

"Yeah. Another apartment."

He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. He was quiet for a while.

Then he said, "Don't go?"

He sounded desperate.

I shook my head, exasperately. "Give me a reason to stay."

He lowered his head.

And stayed quiet.

I nodded. "That's what I thought."

I let a few tears go and passed by him, heading for the elevator, backpack secure around my shoulders.

Then I stopped and turned back to him. I saw his eyes filled with tears.

I let a few of my own drop.

I was crying when I said, "I hope you're happy with Michelle. I really do."

And I did. He _should_ be happy.

I went in the elevator and looked at him, for what felt like the last time.

I raised my hand, waved once, and let the doors close on me.

I took a deep breath and hit my head against the wall.

I was doing the right thing, I told myself.

"I'm doing the right thing."

I walked, waving to Cynthia on my way out.

One foot in front of the other, I reminded myself.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

"Rory!" I heard a faint cry come out.

I turned around fast, looking around for the person calling me.

Then I saw him, he was running fast toward me.

"Tristan, what are you – "

But he kissed me.

Hard.

We both embraced the other and didn't let go.

He drew back his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Rory. I should have… I'm so sorry. Michelle… she's… I want _you_. She's nobody. I'm breaking the engagement. I love you so much. I… don't know what I was doing. You're everything, Rory. _Please _stay. You're _perfect_."

That's all I needed.

I was perfect for him.

_I _was _perfect_ for _him_.

I kissed him again.

**The End.**

A/N: Well, there it is. Hope you liked it and that it was a nice ending. Also, sorry for the delay. I just… didn't want it to end. NEW STORY soon! Here's the outline. Rory stopped talking when she was younger for a long time and because of it, she has a big stuttering problem. She's not popular and gets made fun of _by_ the popular kids. No one talks to her, no one knows her story. What happens when Tristan gives her the benefit of the doubt and despite what his friends say? Will he fall for the mystery of Rory Hayden? Hopefully the first chapter will be up in the next couple of weeks. Thanks for the support for this fic. I couldn't have kept it up without your wonderful reviews. Please review for the last time on this story.


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